


Bloodlines and Brandy

by SouthernHellhound (EmperorsVornskr)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alabama, Alcohol, Alternative Universe - Southern Gothic, Alternative Universe- Modern Setting, Animal Death, Anti-Christianity Overtones, As In Full Quadrupedal Hellhound on Human Fucking, Blood Bond, Body Horror, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Character Death, Consensual Violence, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death Threats, Emetophobia, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Curses, Food, Graphic Violence, Graphic descriptions of gore, Hellhound Kylo Ren, Human/Monster Romance, Hux literally pisses himself a few times here lol, Hux's First Name is Sebastian, I Mean Monster Fucking, Knotting, M/M, Misgendering, Monster Kylo Ren, Multi, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Prosecution, Seriously Please Heed The Tags, Slow Burn, Southern Politics, Teratophilia, There is also consensual goring, Threats of Violence, Trans Armitage Hux, Transphobia, When I Say Monster Fucking, and descriptions of humans being eaten alive, deadnaming, money/family money driven oligarchy bullshit, monster fucking, people get eaten, police intimidation, transphobic slurs, wanton murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 101,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorsVornskr/pseuds/SouthernHellhound
Summary: Sebastian Hux is a native of the Deep South who loathes his origins, and seeks to pull himself from the stifling quagmire, but his bloodlines call him back to the property that has blessed- and plagued- his family for centuries.Unspoken secrets fill his inheritance, skeletons fill every closet, and a monster lurks in the shadows, tied to two bloodlines joined by fate, greed and hatred that has spanned across generations.As Hux learns about his family’s tainted legacy that has now become his burden, he discovers there is more involved than just having to be the curator of property that the locals shun with hushed whispers, that he has inherited more than an estate- he also has a terrible and loathsome horror tied to his very blood.When curious young locals come calling, and Hux’s past tormentors come out of the woodwork to simper and scrabble for a piece of the newly rich, the body count begins to rise, the smell of blood in the old slaughterhouse is getting harder to hide, and Hux realises that he will need to find a better way to pacify the hulking shadow that perches on his roof every night before his hometown’s tiny population is completely decimated.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Jorj Car'das/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Phasma (Star Wars)/Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey
Comments: 94
Kudos: 255





	1. Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older piece of work I'm reposting after doing some heavy editing and reworking. This takes place in my hometown, on the property of the Woodhaven Dairy, a local haunted place with a lot of history. I myself lived in the house for six months, and the experience left a serious mark on my life that I wanted to write about. 
> 
> This will get darker than the rest of my work, hence why it is on a different pseud. Please heed the tags. Not only for violence, animal death (the actual animal death will not be described, only the aftermath. I can write about corpses, but can't stomach actually writing graphic animal death) and monster fucking, but transphobia expected of the Deep South, religious harassment, anti-Christianity overtones (not even going to be subtle about it, this will openly attack Southern Baptists). People will die violent deaths, and some of those deaths will be from being eaten alive. There will also be consensual violence along those lines between Hux and Kylo. 
> 
> So please be careful. Read the tags, and take your triggers into consideration.

Silverhill was a quiet town, quaint, and small, boasting a population under eight hundred people, the main street barely stretching over six blocks. “Blink and you’ll miss it,” was an understatement- not only was the town small, at only a little over a square mile in total size, but the main stretch of road that wasn’t occupied by old fashioned buildings was shaded by the thick overgrowth of ancient oak trees. Trees that had seen too much, and were weighed down by the centuries, their branches dipping low to the ground, only clearing the road after long years- nearly half a century of adapting to traffic.

Those trees had seen everything. The rise and fall of plantations that crumbled and washed away under the wrath of hurricanes and human beings refusing to be owned as secondary property, the battles of the Civil War, cholera outbreaks, the last major epidemics of yellow fever. Their roots curled around mass graves, hiding them from the modern era, keeping the horrors of the past buried deep in the earth, drawing their ancient strength from the dead.

It was hard not to get lost in one’s observation of the hulking verdant behemoths- after all, if one was ignorant of what those knowing branches were heavy with, didn’t pry at what lay buried beneath their gnarled roots, they were a haven. An old, reassuring haven from the blistering sun- those branches were so thick with moss, leaves and miniature ecosystems contained in the network of bark and leaf, that the shade provided was at least ten degrees cooler than the sunlight outside their reach. One could easily mistake these silent eldritch wardens for gentle, peaceful guardians, taking relief and comfort from the Southern heat in their shadows.

Those shadows, the outreaching branches, they engulfed and distracted the eye and mind from the fact that Silverhill seemed to be frozen in time. The buildings still clung to their origins defiantly, the architecture and fading façades standing testament to the passage of time. 

The old schoolhouse, an artefact from the late 1800’s, was constantly touched up to hide wear and tear, now bursting with history, used as a library, and still providing knowledge to a much wider age group. The old pharmacy, once an apothecary, still sported an old exterior from the early 1900’s, made to cover the former appearance of an archaic practise.

The city held secrets from those who didn’t know how to look, who only saw with the eyes of entranced tourists, or travellers simply passing through. Those who were jaded, experienced, and knew what they were looking for, didn’t see the wonder, the antiquated charm, or the novel attraction of stepping into the past. They saw the shadows, they tread carefully, lightly around the buried secrets, kept their eyes down and their mouths shut.

It was the only way to keep those secrets from ruining your life, after all- these secrets tended to have sharp teeth in wide, grinning mouths eager to bite.

It was a mindset that Sebastian Hux was keeping as he drove down Highway 104 under the dark cool shade of the canopy of oak branches. Sunglasses kept the bright Southern sun out of his grey-green eyes, and a layer of sunblock kept the rays from giving his pale freckled skin a sunburn and another layer of freckles.

The AC whirred, kicking cool dry air through the vents and filling the Rolls Royce with the scent of sandalwood and leather that only enhanced the smell of fairly-new, but well-cared-for car and its leather interior. The cold air was a delightfully stark contrast to the sweltering, humid air that practically pressed against the matte black paint of the sleek Phantom.

In the back seat, his essentials were in boxes, his uniform bags hanging from the clothes hooks, his suitcases in the trunk. His jacket was carefully laid over the back of the front seat, the sleeves of his shirt rolled neatly to his elbows. Schubert filtered through the speakers at a low volume, and Hux hummed softly along with the well known and loved melody, fingers drumming over the steering wheel. 

His eyes were on the road, his GPS patiently ticking down the miles until his next turn. He didn’t need the GPS- he still knew the backroads of the lower Baldwin County micropolitan like the lines in his palms, despite his attempts in the past ten years to forget everything about the rural area. Despite his attempts, it seemed the South wasn’t going to let him go without a fight, dragging him back in as slowly and surely as the thick black mud of a bog.

He only used the GPS as a countdown of sorts, a final countdown to his last moments of freedom from a family legacy he didn’t want, a countdown of the shrinking distance that closed between him and the property that was unwanted, but unavoidable.

Schubert faded as the shrill, no-nonsense beep of his phone sounded over the speakers. Tapping a button on the steering wheel, Hux answered the phone call as he flicked his blinker to turn left onto Highway Nine.

“Hux,” he said simply by way of greeting.

“Hux, are you still driving? I’d hoped not to catch you while you were still on the interstate,” said Dopheld Mitaka over the speakers.

“Just turned onto Highway Nine,” Hux replied, turning as his GPS cheerfully prompted him, despite having known for ten minutes it was coming.

“Oh! I thought you’d still be on I-10 at this point!” Mitaka sounded surprised. “I’m still on Thirty-Two, about to cross over the Fish River bridge.”

“Don’t rush on my account, since you’re almost there” Hux said smoothly, letting the large black car hug the sweeping curve of Highway Nine. “I just didn’t want to be unpacking when the sun went down. Is the moving crew en route?”

“The first truck already moved in your furniture, as requested. The second truck with the boxes will be here in the morning. Millicent is at the stables on Highway 48 as requested, until you are moved in and have the stables prepared for her,” Mitaka replied, and Hux could hear the sound of tires bumping over the bridge. He’d be at the dairy about the same time as Hux, if he kept up his current speed.

“Thank you, Dopheld. You’ve been indispensable during this whole mess,” Hux said, his tone warming- especially at the mention of his beloved Tennessee Walker. The mare was a loving, patient, but quirky horse with a mind of her own, and Hux adored her. He couldn’t wait to have her back. Mitaka gave a small laugh on the other end.

“Nothing to thank me for, this is my job, and it certainly broke the monotony of dealing with people squabbling over the inconsequential ‘estates’ old baby boomer relatives they hated until they passed away,” he quipped, and Hux smiled.

“Glad I could give you something interesting to do.”

“Don’t get me wrong, work is work, but it’s not every day that someone gets to handle something like the Woodhaven Dairy. Tongues are wagging, Hux, so be prepared for questions- the prodigal Hux has returned, and a new man, at that. When there’s less than twenty thousand people in two neighbouring towns, the rumour mill runs quicker than wildfire.”

“As I know all too well,” Hux replied smoothly, trying to keep the dry irritation out of his voice. It was one of the reasons he’d left Alabama and the razor sharp edge of passive aggression known as Southern Hospitality, insults coated with “bless your heart,” condescension disguised with “Honey, Darling,” or “Sweetie.”

The turn was coming. Hux turned off the GPS- hearing it announce “You have arrived” in a chipper tone was somehow… damning. Finalising.

“Turning in now,” he said. “I will see you shortly.”

“See you in a bit,” Mitaka replied, hanging up, leaving Hux alone in the car with Schubert playing softly once more.

He took a deep breath and eased the black car into the driveway, sliding through the thick bushes that lined either side of the gravel pathway. Honeysuckle. Fat bumblebees drifted lazily between the blossoms, buzzing contentedly, covered in pollen. A pair of mockingbirds scuffled in mid-flight, their raucous cries sounding through the air. Somewhere in the distance, a crow laughed in a fit of Schadenfreude as the smaller birds grappled. A squirrel paused, acorns stuffed in its cheeks as it watched the car roll by.

Once the tires crossed the threshold of the property, passing through the gate, the honeysuckle blossoms were neglected, and fewer. No squirrels darted across the driveway. The only sound of birds was that of those outside the fence. The trees were still, devoid of animal life. 

Hux glanced at his in-dash thermometer. It slowly ticked down- 102… 100… 98… 96… 92… 90…. and it held. More than ten degrees cooler inside the fence- and Hux was still in full sunlight.

The Rolls came to a stop by the house in a patch of shade, and Hux put the gear into park. He turned the car off, leaving it in accessory, and watched as the thermometer dropped another ten degrees, and held steady at 80 degrees.

Outside the fence, in the sun, Alabama’s late August summer sun shone and warmed the world to 102 degrees Fahrenheit. Inside, the world was more than twenty degrees colder, as though the sun could only permeate so much before the land protested.

The house was the same as he remembered. Small, quaint, farmhouse, with the faded blue siding so pale it was nearly white, aged blue-grey shutters, the second floor and grey tin roof hidden under thick branches of the oak tree that loomed over the house.

To his alarm, there was a kudzu vine making its way up the side of the house near the side door that led into the kitchen- he’d have to remove that as soon as possible if he didn’t want the house to be devoured. He made a note to attack the vine within the next few days- waiting any longer risked the rainy autumn and early winter seasons to water the destructive plant and let it consume his home.

Mental note made, Hux resumed scouring the house. Overgrown bushes hugged the side of the house between the kitchen door and the porch- and to his further chagrin, some of the branches were growing into the mouldy and rather sorry looking window AC unit in the kitchen window- the sill of which was sagging. Yet another thing to fix.

The screened front porch held one sign of life- a singular, particularly determined banana spider in a half made web strung between the door and eaves. Hux stared at it, at the long legs and swollen yellow abdomen contrasting against the pale blue-white and rising an odd wave of revulsion in his throat.

Even as he watched, looking intently at the arachnid, he saw no movement. No subtle twitch of legs as it tested its web for prey, no shifting on threads of silk. It became apparent to Hux that the spider was dead- not long, but no longer alive, and would hang there until its web decayed and dropped the corpse to the ground, or until Hux himself cleared the web from the eaves.

He wanted to get out, to reacquaint himself with the property his grandfather had lived on, where he’d visited as a child, but his legs wouldn’t move. Getting out, taking a step alone onto the grounds, taking it in, it was all an act of damnation. An acceptance, a resignation to his fate, his entrapment.

The roof of the covered walkway between the house and the adjacent storage building was overgrown as well, and to his exasperation, Hux saw the white-blue siding had graffiti over it between the door and main window. The posts of the porch were also spray-painted with random splotches. Hux couldn’t tell if it was the work of vandals, bored local kids, or the obnoxious local “eccentric, misunderstood artist” who claimed no one in the small micropolitan area truly “grasped” their vision.

Hux was betting on the latter two, heavily leaning towards the last.

He glanced in the direction of the old slaughterhouse, chills running down his spine as eyes locked with the shadows of the long neglected building that loomed like a sinister beast in the overgrown trees. 

Once, cows had been taken into it for slaughter, when they were unable to produce any more milk, sold to the local butcher. Neighbouring farms- now private residential properties and hunting grounds- had brought their own beef cows for slaughter as well, the farms collaborating and working together.

Now, the building was silent, nearly in ruins, hunched like a lurking predator, waiting for the unwary to make the mistake of coming into its domain. It wasn’t an entirely incorrect comparison, as the old building was a man-made construct that had decayed into a dangerous maw of inorganic teeth.

Windows were long gone, save for a few weathered shards jutting from the frames. Bars and railing of metal rusted, into literal jagged pieces in some places, the broken segments an open invitation to the foolhardy to contract tetanus as a reward for coming into their midst. Stone steps and flooring had cracked, chipped, fallen to sharp shards or rubbed smooth into slippery patches as a result of decades of weathering.

Hux had never been inside, but he knew it went at least one level into the ground, if not two- cold storage for the purpose of ageing freshly slaughtered meat. A place of death, left to rot to the merciless tide of time- a fate worse in the South as humidity and heat were a harsher force of nature than time on its own.

The temperature of the car’s interior was starting to rise as the cool air from the AC was heating up in the sun, and Hux took one last breath of cool air that wasn’t thick with choking humidity. Bracing himself, he finally opened the door to the Rolls, and got out of the car. He needed to do this before Mitaka arrived.

His first steps, his homecoming, the unsteady stride he’d take out of his vehicle- they had to be done alone. He glanced up as the shade covering him darkened, and his red brows furrowed. Storm clouds had built behind the line of trees, and were now encroaching. Not unusual for this time of year, certainly, and the storm would be a welcome relief from the heat.

His nostrils flared as the first gust from the approaching storm washed over him, carrying the scent of summer heat, the sweet cloy of honeysuckle, hot asphalt, and ozone. Memories washed over him of his grandmother, sitting in the porch swing with a glass pitcher of tea brewing on the table in the sun, their old rottweiler snoozing on the sunfaded and drool-stained rug, snorting in his sleep as he dreamed. 

His grandmother always knew when the storm would hit, and she’d pull everyone and everything inside moments before the rain started to fall. She said the touch of ozone in the air made her tea perfect.

A soft sound caught Hux’s attention, and he turned his head towards it- back towards the slaughterhouse. The yawning black between the trees looked empty, but Hux knew something was lurking just inside, watching him. He could feel eyes on him, staring, peering- the curious gaze of something intelligent, but feral.

_You stay out of that building when you go visit your grandfolks._

_Why, Papa?_

_There’s something wrong about it. Something lives in that old slaughterhouse, and you’d best stay out of it, you hear me?_

_What lives in there, Papa?_

_Doesn’t matter. You promise me you’ll stay out of there. You hear me?_

_Yes, Papa._

The breeze picked up, rustling Hux’s hair as he continued staring into the pitch black. The sound he’d heard was the grating of something over stone, the stirring of broken glass and the crumbling of rusted metal.

He’d heard it often enough when working in old shipyards and warehouses on the docks, or when overseeing maintenance of the aircraft carriers whose grey metal hulls needed their paint stripped and redone after long stints on the salty sea. It made him think of the sound of scrapers being worked over stubborn patches of rust, salt and barnacles on the hull of the Eisenhower. Hearing it here, in his new home, far away from port and even farther away from the life of a sailor, it was unnerving, and his hackles rose.

His gaze was unwavering, and he could sense, could feel something staring back at him. The shadows intensified as the heavy, towering storm clouds came closer, picking up speed as the winds kicked up- but a flash of lightning illuminated the area.

Revealing a tall shadowy figure with glowing red eyes standing in the slaughterhouse.

Taller than Hux, possibly six foot seven, maybe taller. Hux couldn’t tell from this distance. It was distinctly… predatory. Hux couldn’t define what he was looking at, because it was not something his mind registered as something familiar. There was a hunch, a stance, that made him think of something quadrupedal in a threatening, territorial posture, but its height kept his mind from fully accepting it as something on four legs.

Things with four legs that tall were much wider than the thing that lurked in the gaping doorway of the slaughterhouse. Things like elephants, rhinoceros. Giraffes were taller, but also much more slender.

The other main difference, his logic insisted, was that none of those animals lived in the United States, and none of them had eyes that glowed like embers in the colour of fresh blood clots. None of them had fangs that flashed and glittered in the shadowy outlines of their forms.

Hux’s breath was caught in his throat, his heart pounding a furious staccato against his ribs, and a chill ran down his spine like an ice cube melting at the base of neck to drip cold water down his back. He felt his stomach tense, and he tightened his pelvic floor muscles as he realised he was frightened- to the point where he was actually in danger of losing control of his bladder.

Thunder boomed shortly after the flash. The explosive roar and the sound of tires on gravel had Hux startling as headlights crossed the entryway to the malevolent darkness where a horror lurked, watching and waiting. A champagne coloured Lexus stopped a respectful distance from the Rolls Royce, and Dopheld Mitaka got out.

Hux didn’t turn to look at him, refusing to look away from the gaze that held him.

“That is a nice car,” Mitaka commented appreciatively, eyeing the sleek black car. He glanced over at Hux, then followed his gaze, frowning.

The eyes winked out of sight as soon as Mitaka’s curious line of sight swivelled towards them, and the shadows were suddenly, and decidedly empty as the _thing_ slunk silently back into the depths of the slaughterhouse.

“Something in there?” Mitaka asked warily. “I’d heard there were ‘yotes in the woods that were encroaching after your dad abandoned the place...”

Hux finally tore his eyes away and turned to face Mitaka, who was wearing khakis and an aqua polo, sunglasses perched on top of his head, a leather briefcase clutched in his hand. The lawyer’s round face looked worried, uneasy, but he still had a small professional smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.

“No. Nothing at all,” Hux said softly. “You have the keys?”

Mitaka nodded, pulling them out and handing them to Hux.

“Technically, I shouldn’t hand them over to you until you sign the paperwork, but I figure it’d be nice to unlock the door yourself, right?”

Hux wordlessly turned and headed to the side door, avoiding the dead spider that now spun limply in the quickening breeze. It would be gone before nightfall. He slid the key into the lock, and had to wrestle, finagle and force the rusted deadbolt to give with a grind and a loud _clack_. The door creaked open, and for the first time in twenty years, Sebastian Hux stepped into the lavender and cream kitchen.

The tile had been redone, a plain white linoleum, but the lavender and cream curtains, the wallpaper with the wisteria trim, the white marble countertops and cream painted cabinetry, it was almost the same as he remembered.

The colours were all faded from time and the Southern sun, and the counters were covered in a thick layer of dust- save for the obvious places where the movers had been, leaving trails from fingers, appliances and furniture. His loafers clicked on the smooth floor- which had been swept, likely by the movers- carrying him to the table. Mitaka set his briefcase down, but didn’t open it.

“We can sign it after you get your bearings. I imagine you’d like to see if the furniture has been arranged to your liking?” He suggested.

Hux rummaged in his pocket and produced a pack of Djarums and a lighter. He nodded, sticking one in his mouth and lighting it as he strode off without a word to examine the house. Normally, he wouldn’t smoke in the house, and he had no intentions of making a habit of it, but anything to get the smell of stale air, stirred up dust, stagnation and the sweat of the movers out of each room.

He moved from room to room, eyeing the furniture, trailing clove and vanilla smoke behind him. His black leather couch set, the lounge chair, and the black coffee table were unscathed. His study, or the den, rather- the desk, the liquor cabinet, the rug, all made it in one piece.

The utility room was empty, but thankfully the openings for the pipes and vents for a washer and dryer had been sealed properly to keep out unwanted elements of the Southern summer- which varied from the slow invasion of humidity, mould, and kudzu, to the aggressive and determined plundering of insects and troublemakers like raccoons and squirrels.

He went upstairs, tentatively at first, paying attention to the integrity of each stair as he carefully place his weight on it. Aside from a few steps creaking in protest at supporting so many feet after nearly fifteen years of silent disuse, they held, and seemed solid.

Hux made his way down the short hall, the floorboards also voicing their protest at having their slumber interrupted. He opened the door to the master bedroom and saw with relief his bed was just where he’d asked, his wardrobe in place, the mirror still flawless, the night-stand already set up.

He made a quick check of the upstairs bathroom. The grout between the black and white tiles was in clear need of cleaning- or a complete rework. The mirror was fly-specked and dust covered, the sink rusted from a sporadic drip that came with the tightening and loosening of the pipes with the flow of seasons.

The massive, claw-footed porcelain tub had a trail of rust down the side from the faucet, and the drain had rusted through around the edges. The tub had been modified by his grandfather to include a metal frame for a showerhead and curtain, but those, too, were spotted with lime, rust and age. The curtain was absent, likely removed when his grandparents had died, to prevent mould and mildew build up.

An easy enough fix, most of it, save for the rusted-through drain. He’d need a plumber to come look at it- he wasn’t keen on getting rid of that massive, luxurious tub. He’d always wanted to take baths in it as a child, but his grandmother had worried that her small grandchild would drown in such a big tub, so he’d taken baths in the small tub of the downstairs bathroom that was a more modern and recent addition- built against the wall with a less antiquated shower.

He wanted to restore the massive tub so he could finally enjoy the typical indulgent and luxurious soaks typically seen in movies and read about in novels. He already had plans to get one of those trays that would straddle the tub that had book rests and cup holders- even an ashtray.

Hux fully planned on having a long soak with a book, brandy and a cigarette at least once a week.

He hesitated at the end of the hall, looking up at the pullstring of the attic. The inspector had deemed it safe before he moved in, but he didn’t mention anything undesirable- like spiders, cobwebs, or other surprises.

Hux remembered the dead spider outside the porch, and decided that, no, there wasn’t anything mentioned, because nothing liked to live inside the boundaries of this place.

He pulled the string and with a shriek of metal and wood that sounded like a child being strangled- and had Mitaka running upstairs in concern- Hux unfolded the stairs.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you scared the hell out of me!” Mitaka gasped, wiping his brow as he saw Hux at the foot of the folded stairs. “That sounded like someone being murdered!”

Hux let out a sheepish chuckle.

“Sorry to frighten you, Dopheld. Mind holding this steady while I take a peek up there?”

Mitaka rested his weight on the bottom rung as Hux ascended. The temperature of the attic hit him in a near suffocating wall of heat and humidity, and he coughed as the oppressive air of the space pushed into his lungs, carrying the scent of dust, heat, old insulation, and that peculiar musk that was unique to- and expected of- attics.

Hux fished his cell phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight, shining it around the attic. He felt his stomach churn in disappointed resignation as he looked around and saw that two thirds of the space was full of stacks upon stacks of old fashioned wooden crates, as well as many old, battered trunks.

There was also the scattering of every kind of junk expected in the attic of the long deceased who’d been born in the 20’s: a sewing dummy and full sized sewing machine built into a rusted bench with foot pedal; fishing poles no longer useable, old lamps with dust caked shades and decayed cords, many large metal milk jugs that still bore the raised embossing of “Woodhaven Dairy,” stacked wicker chairs that looked like they might fall apart if they were looked at too long, rolled up rugs, a coat rack with old mildewed hats and a threadbare coat, and so much other miscellaneous detritus all packed between the crates and trunks.

It would take forever to clear it out, but it was mostly organised, and not a massive, uncontrolled hoard, which is what Hux had feared. He backed down the stairs, and Mitaka helped him fold the stairs back up, both men wincing at the screech of metal and wood that sounded far too much like the blood-curdling scream of a child.

Satisfied with the upstairs, the only issues being expected, but manageable wear and tear of neglect and time, and a layer of dust he’d likely need to attack with a team of housekeepers, Hux went back downstairs with Mitaka.

“All in order, more or less” he said, pleased, as they came back into the kitchen.

He still had three more rooms that he’d only poked his head into- one filled with his boxes, the other two empty- but he’d been living in a two bedroom apartment in Maryland before being dragged back down to the South. He’d find something to do with the empty rooms eventually, he supposed.

Mitaka arranged the paperwork and sat at the table.

“Let’s get to it,” Hux said matter of factly, taking a long drag final of his Djarum before putting it out in the sink. He turned the handle to rinse the ashes down the drain, and the pipes gave a low, thrumming moan, the faucet shaking before finally, with a rumbling gurgle, water came out.

Hux hissed slightly as the water came out red and brown, reeking of copper and salt, and he almost mistook it for blood, but after a few seconds, the water cleared, the rust pushed out by the water pressure. The ancient pipes ceased their groaning, the faucet stopped shaking, and Hux tentatively stuck a finger under the flow of water.

It was as cold as any water he’d ever felt, and he pulled his hand away. If he hadn’t known the water came from a limestone well that was fed by underground springs- one of many that were the reason Baldwin county had so many occurrences of sinkholes- he would have been alarmed at the chill.

“Everything alright?” Mitaka asked.

“Pipes a bit rusty, is all. Definitely need a plumber to come out here,” Hux replied. “Sorry. Let’s get to it. Don’t want you heading out after nightfall, unless you want to crash on the sofa.”

“I’ll pass,” Mitaka said with a chuckle. “Alright. You know the stipulations: You get nothing if you abandon the property as a primary residence. A member of your family, by blood, must always occupy the house. Otherwise, the trust funds, the bonds, the investments, the stocks, the bank accounts, the estate, they all go to the other documented beneficiaries.”

Hux nodded, pulling a fountain pen from his pocket, ready to sign. His father had forfeited his claim to the estate, the family fortune, the stocks, investments, all of it- because he refused to live on the property. He’d claimed it when his father had died, and he had supposedly tried to get the place liveable for his wife and child, but he had come back after a week, his eyes wild and panicked. He’d made calls, and shortly after, the land, the inheritance, was never mentioned again.

Hux never knew why, but after being discharged from the military as an officer, he’d grown accustomed to a certain level of comfort, and had accepted the inheritance, despite his misgivings about returning to Silverhill.

Money made the world go ‘round these days, and Hux had no intention of letting it spin without him.

“You also know the other fine details, you made me stay up reading every inch of fine print.”

Hux nodded again.

“My grandfather left nothing to chance. Luckily, I had no siblings, and the family requirement of blood inheriting the property means it’s mine, regardless of my father refusing it himself,” he said dryly. “Lucky me.”

“Alright. Sign where it’s marked. There’s quite a bit here. Then we’ll sign the deeds, and we’ll be done.”

* * *

  
  


Hux staggered into his room, brandy still on his lips, his dinner warm in his stomach. It was late.

Exhaustion was setting in, exacerbated by a stomach full of brandy, tarragon chicken and rice pilaf. He’d showered in the downstairs bathroom as his dinner baked in the oven, grateful the pipes cooperated much more willingly than the kitchen’s.

He ate alone in the silent kitchen, then enjoyed a cigarette on the porch with three fingers of brandy, listening to the storm rage overhead, the mist of the rain reaching him through the screens and giving him an enjoyable chill in the late summer heat.

Once his cigarette was nearly done, the cherry ember bright in the dark of the porch, Hux had felt a gaze on him that made his damp hair stand on end, and when the unnerving sensation didn’t abate after a full minute- a minute too long in his paranoid opinion- he quickly retreated into the safety of his well lit house.

Now, he had to make his bed- he’d packed his bedding in his car with his essentials, the duvet and sheets too expensive to be trusted to movers.

Stripping to his underwear, and removing his packer, Hux moved to a box, pulled out his bedding, and sloppily made his bed- he made sure the cooling pad, mattress liner and the fitted sheet were put on properly, but the sheets, the weighted blanket, and the duvet, he tossed onto the bed haphazardly.

He arranged his pillows, listening to the thunder as it cracked and roared in the skies- the only thing he’d really missed about the South- then once his bed was suitable to sleep in, he turned off the lights, and fell into the nest of blankets and pillows.

It didn’t take the exhausted man long to fall asleep, lulled by the pouring rain and roaring thunder. So tired was he, that he didn’t even stir as a heavy thump sounded through the rain on the roof above his room.

Long, wicked claws curled around the eaves, and sharp cloven hooves clicked on the wet roof. A long snout, a muzzle of bone, devoid of flesh, bent low as the massive shadow hunched to peer through the window. Empty eye sockets stared at the man sleeping on black and red blankets, his body twisted in a thick duvet as he sprawled on his stomach.

Rain dripped from bare fangs and pooled in the exposed nasal cavity, jaws creaking slightly as they parted, the skeletal face tilting. A thick, long black mane, soaked from the storm, clung to the skull, the supple neck and was slicked against the lean, muscular shoulders. The man hadn’t been scared. He’d looked and stared, only turning away when the other human called for his attention.

The man had to die. Instinct driven by centuries of obligation, of blood magic and vengeance, of death marks written by screams as necks were broken, demanded that this man die. Claws itched to rip and tear, jaws parted further, eager to sink fangs into flesh, to drink deep of lifeblood that had driven the never ending desire to eliminate an entire bloodline.

Shoulders hunched, and the creature skittered over the edge of the roof and along the side of the house- clinging like an unholy spider as it made its way to the window. Long legs reached out, forepaws elongating, toes turning to fingers with nightmare claws that cracked open the window. The long, horrifying limbs coiled to prepare to launch the creature’s weight into the man’s room- and then, hesitation.

This scent. It was the bloodline. The one of which was for killing, devouring, drinking, sating a never ending thirst, hunger, lust. Yet…. The Blood. The Blood of the Binder. It was faint, but it was there, throbbing in this fearless man’s veins, singing in arteries.

Empty sockets filled with a blood-clot red glow as the creature felt unease and confusion rage in its mind.

Clawed hands pushed the window closed, and carried the monster across the roof. Panic had skeletal jaws parted as the shadowy monstrosity launched from the roof and skittered, a mess of long limbs, sodden fur and gleaming bone as it disappeared back into the bowels of the slaughterhouse.

The rain, perhaps, it mused. Yes. The rain. It hid scents. Masked them.

Carefully, the monster considered, tilting its horrifying head, visage glinting wet with rain. Yes. This man must be studied. It must learn, know him. Maybe this man _knew_ and lied, masked his scent with Blood of the Binder. Oh, if it lied… if it tried to be one of those that bound the creature…. His death would come slowly. But first, he must be studied.

The creature shuddered violently, outline becoming fluid, protean. The skeletal face cracked, groaned, shifted and receded. Long wet fur curled around the slender frame, and emulated clothing, imitated what it knew. Claws became long pale fingers, and the spiked mane became soft, wild hair.

Glittering amber brown eyes narrowed as they studied the dark house where the target slept, unaware- or foolishly ignoring- how his death watched from the shadows. A plush mouth spread into a sharp, glittering smile.

He would know soon enough, and he would acknowledge it with a chorus of screams as he paid a blood debt centuries old with his own blood. The creature had spilled blood of his line before, but it was never enough. It would never be enough.

He was a Bengêsko, bound by blood, by curse, by vengeance, and he could not rest until his purpose, his contract, had been fulfilled.

The last of the cursed line slept in that house, he knew. The last of his line, the last of the marked lineage doomed to death between his jaws.

Only once this man with his sharp eyes, his fire-red hair, and odd scent was dead, could he finally be free. 


	2. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm doesn't wash away evidence of a nighttime visitor. News of the prodigal Hux's return is already stirring the tongues of the locals.

Overhead, the storm raged.

Water pinged and clanged against the tin roof, sluicing off the edges and into the gutters, which overflowed and created cascades of water as the rain spout was clogged from years of neglect and shed oak leaves. The resulting cascade hit the ground, reinforcing the hard line of pebbles and clay that years of rain improperly drained run-off had worn into the grass surrounding the house.

The miniature ditch filled quickly, and added the sounds of water splashing and jostling the loose pebbles, gravel and earth. Rain pattered against the leaves of the ancient oaks that overlooked the house, branches dripping, and swaying with the wind, the occasional acorn hitting the roof with a loud plonk of reverberating metal.

The spider that had spun lifelessly in the remains of its web was long gone, blown away and smashed into the detritus of leaves and twigs, acorns and Spanish moss at the foundation of the house. Small cyclones of dead grass and other loose vegetation spun up and down the gravel driveway as the wind howled.

In his bed, lulled deeper into sleep by the rioting storm, Hux nestled deeper into the thick warm duvet, sliding his bare legs over the soft sheets with a sigh. He rolled onto his side, curled into a foetal position, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his lids as he dreamed.

“ _You stand accused of treason against the Crown, Widow Benson. How do you plead?”_

“ _Accuse me of whatever you like, we all know that even if God himself came down to proclaim my innocence, you’d find something else to hang me with so you might seize the land you covet so sinfully, Judge Hux!”_

_The middle aged woman’s mouth curled in a sardonic smile, her dried lips cracking and bleeding as they split, the result of dehydration from being withheld water in hopes of having her confess the crime of sending messages to Continental soldiers about ship movements in Mobile Bay._

“ _If you plead guilty, your life will be spared, Mary,” coaxed one of the older councilmen. “Think of your daughters up in Boston!”_

_A dry cackle from the abused woman’s bloody mouth, her broken teeth now stained red like a predator’s bloody maw as it gaped open, and the council all shifted uncomfortably on the oak benches. The wood creaked under them in protest, and echoed about the rafters of the town hall._

“ _My daughters are spared, that’s enough for me,” she hissed around her broken teeth, hacking a blob of blood and phlegm to the floor. One of the guards hit the back of her head with the butt of his firearm, and her wan face, already pale from months of being jailed, drained further of colour as she swayed on her feet, threatening to swoon from the blow._

“ _Will you not plead, then?” Judge Brendol Hux pressed. “If you admit to your transgressions, or name your cohorts, we can lessen your sentence, or even a pardon. If not, we have no choice but to hang you, Mary.”_

_Her blood-shot eyes stared at him with a cold fury that had the elders going silent._

“ _I will never admit to anything I did not do,” she said with glacial calm. “Your hypocrisy is staggering, and your motives are laid bare, Judge. If I confess, I forfeit my land and my name laid low in the town. If I do not, I hang, and die, and still my land will be forfeit, my name besmirched. You will get my land, regardless of what I do, it’s what you want, what you planned on when you put that forgery in my ledgers.”_

_The widow raised her chin defiantly, her spine straightening with pride, and her swollen, bruised jaw set firmly._

“ _You can take my land, Judge Hux, and I hope it devours you,” she cried angrily. “Take it, and choke on it. You’ll not have me confess to lies and slander! I will die with my name intact, and all will know you killed a founder of this town for no reason other than greed!”_

_Her eyes were focused on the Judge with the intensity of a hawk’s, and with the ancient, all-knowing look of a raven under her thick dark eyebrows._

“ _God damns all liars, Judge, but what does he do those liars who also covet, and kill?”_

“ _Blasphemous, traitorous whore!” An elder roared, and the crowd rang out their agreement with a cacophony of bellows and cries- and no one noticed how the thick-set judge had gone pale beneath his red beard._

“ _Take her to the gallows!” Hux screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as the raucous noise grew to a fever pitch._

_Mary was calm, silent as the constables took hold of her shoulders and led her out of the courthouse. She kept her head high as they pushed her through the street, barefoot and filthy, her clothes and hair snarled and tattered, bruises and blood on her skin. She stared into nothing as hisses, swears and globs of spit flew at her from all sides._

_Neighbours who had once come to her apothecary for medicine. Women who had thanked her for her skills as a midwife and a healer that had nursed their children back to health. Men who had respected her talents with livestock and the balms that eased aches and pains after long days of work. Even children, who had once flocked to her apothecary for sweets made from herbs, or honeyed pecans._

_She was shoved roughly up the steps of the gallows, and she stumbled, splinters from the weathered wood digging into the soles of her feet. As she fell, trying to catch herself with bound wrists, a particularly large gouge in the wood ripped open the palms of her hands. She was rudely dragged back to her feet, and she left bloody handprints on the steps._

_The crowd jeered and roared as the hangman took the rope in his hands. Hux came beside her and waved to the crowd._

“ _The accused, Widow Mary Benson, is hereby found guilty of treason, and will die by hanging,” he announced, the proclamation met with roars and bellows. Mary said nothing, digging nails into her bleeding palms. Hux leaned close to her ear as the hangman prepared the noose._

“ _You should have taken up my offer when I proposed marriage, Mary,” he whispered. “It was more than you deserved, being welcomed into the Village, such as you are, a former indentured servant, even if you married well into the Village when William Benson took you as a wife. I protected you once, you know. There were whispers of you being a witch, and I buried the accusations.”_

_Still, she said nothing. Her eyes were following the motions of the rope as it was made into her death. Blood dripped between her fingers and onto the gallows._

“ _I could offer you one last chance,” Hux murmured. “One last proposal, to save your life.”_

“ _I wish to say my last words,” Mary said suddenly, her voice ringing over the crowd._

_The silence that slowly settled over the square was far more deafening that the chaos that had preceded it._

“ _I am no traitor,” she called. “I am a woman, and in this world, in this age, that means I have little say over what happens to me when men decide my fate. No jury in the world could have saved me this day.”_

_Hux balled his fists, but she continued._

“ _What is done, is done, and I go to my death with no regrets. But know this.”_

_She held up her bound wrists, spreading fingers wide, and blood dribbled and dripped from her raw, gouged hands- she’d made the cuts worse with her own fingernails. The splash of crimson was stark against the stained greys of her simple shift._

“ _Whosoever claims my land will suffer. Whoever moves into my home will know true terror. Tear the house down, raze the crops, it will matter not, for the land itself will remember who respected it and earned it fairly. They that place their family name on my deed dooms their entire bloodline to misery, discord and torment in the jaws of Hell itself. They will each fall, one by one, at the cruelty of the monster they themselves brought upon themselves, until the last living of their line is dead.”_

_Her eyes flashed, and a woman screamed in the crowed in a fit of hysterics as a clap of thunder boomed in the distance from an approaching summer storm._

“ _Bengesko Zhukel, ashunel ma ai lel primuta ma. Porravel wuni te astarel mo phuv. Lovil len tele. Del len na filtari. Sikavel na mila! Primuta ma!” She screamed as her blood began running more freely from her palms, the hangman struggling to get the noose around her neck as Hux bellowed “STOP HER!” frantically._

_She was pushed from the ledge, and there was a snap as her neck broke. Blood continued to drip from her hands, and the crowd fell silent._

_Overhead, the clouds were approaching fast, covering the sky, and the air dropped drastically in temperature as the storm slunk over the Village. The only sound was the roar of thunder, and the creaking of the rope as Mary’s body swung, lifeless._

_Her blood continued to flow._

Hux sat up abruptly, his breath coming in short gasps, and he looked around the room wildly, eyes wide. The night around him still roared and spattered rain upon his house, the dark so thick, he might have never opened his eyes, for all he could see.

He sat there for a while, heart pounding in his ears as he strained to hear anything above the sound of his own rapid pulse and the storm outside, before he asked out loud,

“What are you listening for?”

His mind raced to the shadow he’d seen in the slaughterhouse before coming inside with Dopheld, the impossibly tall shadow, predatory, with glowing blood clots for eyes. His father’s words came to him again.

_You stay out of that building... something wrong about it. Something lives in that old slaughterhouse, and you’d best stay out of it, you hear me?_

Another acorn hit the roof above his room, and Hux nearly jumped out of skin- he nearly would have fallen off the bed, where it not for the nest he’d made of his duvet.

Laughing sharply and almost a little hysterically, he fumbled for his nightstand, and the bottle of diphenhydramine. He clumsily opened the bottle and tipped back what he estimated to be 30mL before flopping back into the pillows. He stared at the ceiling- what else could he be looking at in this pitch black?- and felt the weight of the darkness on his chest, his stomach, perched on his limbs, even weighing on his eyeballs.

“What has you so spooked?” he asked himself.

Not the dream, surely not. He knew the story behind the property, that long ago, some widow, a possible witch, had cursed it when his forefathers had purchased it- though some said he’d killed her for it by framing her for betraying the British, as the area had been under the Empire’s control at the time. Hux had gone over the records, and he’d had a dream about it.

That was all.

“Curses. Monsters. Ridiculous,” he snorted. “All you saw was a trick of light exacerbated by fatigue, stress and heat. Nothing more.”

He satisfied himself with this for a while and felt his eyelids grow heavy as the diphenhydramine finally started to kick in. He went back to sleep, and this time, he did not dream.

He never saw the shadow prowling around his car, never heard the sound of something _slithering_ under the door and into the house. He was dead to the world as the dark shape moved through each room, crept over the floors and skittered silently up the stairs before sitting at the foot of his bed, melding into the darkness.

Hux slept heavily through the storm as the shadow stared at him. The amorphous darkness was still and silent, and didn’t budge until the first light of dawn crept over the horizon and began to glitter through the soaked branches of the oak trees. Then it was gone, melting into the shadows of the slaughterhouse before the first rays of light touched the old building’s facade.

That morning, Hux saw the odd muddy marks at the door as he stepped onto the porch for a morning cigarette, but decided it was just some leaking from the neglected gutters, and refused to let himself think on it a moment longer. As he made himself breakfast of toast and an over-easy fried egg with coffee, he thought of unpacking, of hiring help to repair and renovate the stables, of the day he’d be able to bring his beloved horse home.

He washed the dishes, looking through the kitchen window at the miniature moat that had resulted from the clogged gutters overflowing. First things first, he decided, was to go to the hardware store and get some tools and ask for recommendations on the best handymen in the area. That thought had him going over his ever-growing to-do list, which he organised in his head as stepped outside and locked the door.

He had to remove the kudzu threat, then call a plumber, have the stables cleared of debris and repaired, have fresh gravel laid down in the driveway until the rainy season abated, and he could have it properly paved, have the graffiti painted over, replace the window unit, then-

His thoughts were mildly thrown off their track, however, as he went to the car, and saw the giant paw prints that circled his car in the already drying mud. He looked at them, his brain not quite registering what he was seeing. Surely he wasn’t seeing the tracks in perspective.

He knelt down, mindful of his black slacks in the dirt, and held his hand just above each print, his cigarette dangling from his mouth as he compared it against the track in the wet dirt. His mouth tightened around the Djarum, lips going pale. His brow furrowed, and he felt a sweat break out over his forehead as he took it in.

The main pad of each paw alone was as big as his hand with his pale, trembling fingers extended.

That would have been enough to have him scared, but it was the other tracks that had the Djarum falling, unlit, onto the ground. There was another set of prints moving in stride with the first set, as if two bipedal creatures had paced around his car in time with one another- or as if a quadrupedal creature with two different kinds of limbs had circled the car.

The second set was that of cloven hooves, just as big as the paws.

* * *

Storms in Alabama rarely bring relief, save for during their short, furious lifespans. The next morning was bright and humid, with only puddles shining on the ground and drops glittering on tree branches as evidence that a storm had happened. The scent of wet earth and summer flowers filled the hot, humid air, the stubborn Southern ground refusing to relinquish the heat of the summer, even after a torrential rain.

The golden sunlight spilled through the window of the small apartment, carrying the scent of a post-storm morning with it through the pane left cracked open the night before. It bathed the occupants of an odd sleeping arrangement, causing tanned and dark sable skin to glow in the warm light.

Finn grumbled as the sunlight finally pierced through his sleep, and with an annoyed sound, rolled over onto his stomach. His bed partner made a sound of protest and shifted to regain the comfort of Finn’s back as a pillow, arm draping over his waist.

Their bed was an odd arrangement, a mismatched pair of mattresses, one queen sized, one full, pushed together to create a larger sleeping space, and shoved into the corner of the room. It was covered in multiple pillows, at least three blankets, a well worn ragdoll, and at the foot of the bed on his own blanket, a bright orange and white Pomeranian snoozed happily.

Finn was sprawled on his stomach, blankets kicked off hours earlier, arms under his pillow. Poe Dameron was draped over him, cheek resting against his back and legs tangled in his boyfriend's, his blanket around his knees. Both men snored softly in their own ways, Finn’s a quiet snorting breath rather than a snore, whereas Poe snored loudly, and drooled on Finn’s shirt- which was actually Poe’s shirt.

Rey leaned against the doorframe, chewing on a bagel as she watched the domestic scene with a smile. She was already dressed for work, a stained white crop top showing off lean tanned abs, khaki coveralls undone where they hung at her waist, and black combat boots still untied. Her dark brown hair glistened, pulled up into a loose bun at the back of her head, and her hazel eyes glittered as she looked at her boyfriends.

Poe was a long time helicopter pilot for the local hospital’s EMT team- Thomas Hospital was one of the largest and most renowned hospitals in the area, and Poe flew patients between it and other larger facilities in the most urgent cases. Despite the stressful job, Poe was constantly easy going and wore a charismatic smile like a second skin.

Finn was an Army veteran who had been discharged after a few years and one tour in Iraq- seeing his platoon getting blown up by IED’s had left him traumatised, and he was discharged with PTSD. He’d taken a job at the hospital, working as a janitor when he met Poe on a lunch break at the cafeteria. The two had hit it off, and Poe had seen a spark in him, a drive to help others, and had pulled him into the EMT squad for training and certification. A year later, Finn flew with Poe, handling radio comms and doing heavy lifting.

Despite his PTSD, Finn was a charming and good hearted man, his smile as warm and big as his heart. His eyes always shone with hope and bright expectations, and his humour was a good mix of snarky and light. Poe brought his humour and his warmth out when they were together, and Poe secretly admitted to Rey that he had the feeling he may have saved Finn from himself.

As for Rey, she was lucky to have them both. She didn’t know her parents, only the leapfrog game of leaping from foster home to foster home, hating every minute of it. She’d spent her last years of high school taking trade classes- mainly shop, mechanics and engineering- then dropped out once she turned eighteen, and was no longer in the foster care system.

Armed with just her raw knowledge of cars, she’d turned up on the doorstep of a local combination junk-yard-and-car-mechanic, and asked for a job. The mechanic had given her a dubious eye, but when he gave her a clunker to work on, and she made it run, he gave her a job on the spot.

The young woman was a savant with cars- she could make a long dead clunker come back to life, coax dying cars away from the edge, and make decent cars purr like kittens. Her own car was a battered old 5.0 litre Mustang that she’d worked on and made into a fierce- albeit loud and ugly looking- machine.

She’d known Poe’s face from around town, but never had the chance to talk to him until he came to the shop to get a frayed serpentine belt on his alternator replaced, with Finn in tow. As Rey had been buried inside the engine of Poe’s black, orange striped Camaro, they’d exchanged small talk, and had gotten along well. Rey had especially taken a liking to Finn, and they arranged to have dinner together.

That was a year ago. Now the three of them were inseparable, and their living arrangement couldn’t have been more agreeable.

Rey shoved the last of her bagel in her mouth as she moved to the foot of the bed, her news bubbling in her chest. She’d let them sleep long enough before she said her goodbyes.

Now, she pounced.

“Hey!” Rey cried, bouncing onto the bed, dislodging the fluffy Pomeranian- Bartholomew Bartimus the VIIIth, aka BB8- who barked indignantly and strode off into the living room to hop onto the couch to continue his sleep. Finn grunted, sitting up, and Poe simply flopped onto his back, protesting with a groan as he was dislodged from Finn’s back.

“Rey, what is it?” Finn groused, rubbing sleep from his eyes and stretching, his back popping.

Rey planted a kiss on his dark-skinned forehead by means of a good morning before leaning down and giving Poe a noisy kiss on his nose and deftly avoiding the pilot’s clumsily swatting hand.

“The Woodhaven Dairy is let out! The Hux family came back!” She said excitedly. Finn snorted and flumped back into the pillows gracelessly.

“That’s all?” Poe grumbled. “C’mon, Rey, that’s nothing to wake up a pair of swing shift EMT’s for!”

“You went to school with this Hux, if the age is correct!” Rey continued. “Maybe you know them? Maybe…. You could ask them if they wouldn’t mind if I looked at the old buildings?”

“I remember the Hux’s, and I didn’t get along with any of em, Rey. They’re old money and their family’s been around since the town was founded,” Poe replied, muffled as he buried his face in Finn’s chest.

“The one Hux in my class was Elizabeth Hux, and she was…. Well, she wasn’t a happy person, and she kept to herself. It was considered good for her when she left Alabama after graduating.”

Rey looked crestfallen, and sighed, but didn’t press the issue.

“Okay. I won’t ask you to bug them, then,” she said.

“I don’t know why you want to look at the place so badly, Rey,” Finn said between two jaw cracking yawns, his toes curling as he stretched, an arm around Poe’s shoulders. “It’s just an old defunct dairy.”

“An old, defunct, _haunted_ dairy,” Rey corrected.

“If you believe local tales,” Poe countered.

“Then what about the horses?” Rey asked stubbornly.

“Coyotes,” Poe retorted, but his reply was half-coherent. Already, he was slipping back into sleep, lulled by the warmth of Finn’s chest under his cheek.

Rey didn’t argue that coyotes didn’t hunt in packs- which was the only way those horses could have died- and they didn’t slaughter domesticated livestock the way those horses had been found those odd years ago.

Poe’s breathing was coming evenly and slow now, and she didn’t want to wake him again. She placed a kiss on his cheek before getting off the bed, Finn watching her with sleep-heavy eyes.

“Why is it important, Rey?” He asked drowsily. She shrugged, coming to his side of the bed and pressing a long, lingering kiss to his mouth. His free hand ran over the back of her neck, pulling her close.

“Just… something makes me feel like I need to look. I can’t explain it,” she said when they finally broke their kiss. “Guess I’ll never know.”

Finn gave her a lazy smile.

“You’re gonna be late for work.”

“Not if I gun it,” Rey said with a wry smile, and blowing him a kiss, she darted from the room, leaping over BB8 as the small dog came padding back into the room for the comfort of his end of the bed.

Moments later, the orange and white dog flattened his ears in annoyance as the roar of the old Mustang boomed beside the cracked window. Finn and Poe didn’t even flinch, already deep asleep again as Rey tore off down Highway 98 to work.

* * *

Cold air blasted from the vents of the car as Hux drove down Highway 98, the interior of the car cast in a green shadow from the sunlight filtering through various leaves of oak and pecan trees.

Hux’s face was passive behind his sunglasses, the silence of the car only broken by the thrum of the engine and the rush of air conditioning. There was the occasional bump of tires over a pothole or bump in the road caused by a particularly stubborn tree root under the pavement, but nothing else disturbed his train of thought.

He was withdrawn, dwelling on the tracks that had surrounded his car. He’d tried convincing himself he’d mistaken, that surely the tracks were not as big as he’d thought. The dirt he’d wiped from his hand after placing it _inside_ the main pad of the paw alone told him otherwise.

What sort of animal would have made such large tracks? They were paws, for sure, but enormous, and with five toes instead of the requisite four. They also boasted deep gouges that indicated very long claws, and the prints were deep, suggesting the animal was very large in size, not just large of foot.

_Not a wolf. There are no wolves in Baldwin County, not since the 1920’s. There are only coyotes, and they are less than half the size those paws would indicate the animal to be. Indeed, I know even wolves would not have such large paws. Even the largest of dogs would not have paws that size,_ Hux thought, his placid expression giving way to a frown.

_They don’t have cloven hooves, either, for that matter._

He’d intended to start work on the stables- he wanted Millicent home and settled- but now, he felt she wouldn’t be safe if such a creature was roaming his property. So instead of seeking out help from Lakewood Stables or Oak Hollow Farm to get supplies and extra hands, he was now heading to the Weeks Bay Reserve to ask about local predators. From there, he’d see what was loose on his land, if it could be caught, and how to go about getting rid of it. If nothing else, he could call Animal Control if it turned out it was someone’s escaped pet.

_But is it? You said yourself that even the largest of dogs couldn’t have paws that size. Nothing natural leaves tracks that big. Or has two kinds of feet._

Nothing natural.

“Stop it,” Hux said aloud to himself. “Curses, monsters, you’re jumping at shadows, clutching rosaries and tossing salt over your shoulder and there’s a logical reason for this.”

His mind flashed back yet again to the shadow in the slaughterhouse.

“ _You stay out of that building... something wrong about it. Something lives in that old slaughterhouse, and you’d best stay out of it, you hear me?”_

Hux ground his teeth in a squeal of enamel on enamel, and turned into the empty parking lot of an old barn that had, in his lifetime, been a country dance club, a rock bar, a square dancing joint, and was now closed indefinitely. Taking care in the white gravel, he turned around and guided the black car back onto 98, heading back into town, towards Fairhope.

It wasn’t natural. He couldn’t deny it. He’d been going over the possibilities, every explanation that might be feasible. Nothing could wave away the fact that something big as a horse- or bigger- with five toed paws, tipped in very long claws, and large cloven hooves, had slunk around his car during the night.

He followed 98 until it branched into its highway and scenic routes, the latter of which he took, heading west before the road curved northward. He was going down-town, to visit the one person everyone knew- and the one person who knew everything and everyone, and everything about the history of Southern Baldwin County.

It was time to see Maz Kanata. 


	3. Home Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux gets advice from Maz- and meets the monster that stalks his property. It doesn't go well.

Driving down Highway 98, heading East, then North into Fairhope, was like slipping through time. Thick wooded areas boasted a wide variety of oak, magnolia, pine, gum, birch, elm and pecan trees. Kudzu covered some, and crawled up power lines, making green masses of whatever it covered. Tall stalks of Queen Anne’s Lace bobbed lazily in the sun, white blossoms swaying back and forth. In between them, stalks of hemlock mirrored their movements, deceptively beautiful as they masqueraded as mostly harmless plants.

The thick woods were occasionally spotted with buildings- usually homes- that were built in small lots that had once been cleared of trees, but had later become encroached on from all sides as the forest crept back to claim its stake. These small homes were covered with shade, and there was little in the way of lawns as the old trees stole every ray of sunshine.

The further Hux went, the more the trees began to thin as wooded areas became rural- pastures fenced in on either side of the highway, containing cows and horses. Hux knew by sight that the cows on the Eastern side of the road were beef cattle, grazing away, blissfully ignorant of their fates, or possibly the fates of their calves once they were older. The horses on the Western side, Hux knew to belong to private owners who often used them for racing, polo and occasionally rented them out at Oak Hallow Farms.

Highway 98 branched into two paths eventually- the Scenic route that wound and twisted its way through a gorgeous tunnel of oak branches along the bay’s coast, and took one through Point Clear to Fairhope. The other path was Highway 98 itself with a split four lane, a speed limit of fifty-five, and a route that went through more rural area before hitting the town of Fairhope in its more modern half.

Hux turned the car right, taking the non-scenic route. He wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing, nor was he particularly set on going on thirty-five miles per hour and hitting at least five four-way stops. The most common traffic slowdowns in Alabama, after all, were those four-way stops where one person would wave the other to go ahead, while they waved back for the other to go first, and other bystanders would have to wait for the Southern hospitality to play itself out.

He pushed the car to sixty, knowing the police only pulled you over if you were going ten or more over the speed limit, or if you were known to cause trouble. They also tended to look the other way when they saw high end cars being driven by white men. Hux smiled bitterly to himself at the thought, knowing the town would never change in that regard.

The highway stretched between more fields, one dotted with black and white cows belonging to the local dairy, the other full of pecan trees in neat, orderly rows. More buildings began to dot the land as Hux drove closer to town, and further through time. The auction building, churches, the volunteer EMS station, car repair garages, apartment complexes, the high school, and gas stations.

Finally, he reached the intersection of Fairhope Avenue and Highway 98, and found himself looking at how the town had changed as he waited for the left turn light to become green. A CVS, a Shell station, Ruby Tuesday’s, and a Hardee’s sat on each corner of the intersection. Behind the two restaurants and gas station was a shopping centre- one each with grocery stores, more restaurants, outlet stores and small businesses.

The light changed, and Hux turned left onto Fairhope Avenue. The retail buildings faded to older houses, more trees, and soon to antique homes that bore crests on their faces, proclaiming proudly that they’d stood since the town’s founding. The crests didn’t fool Hux- he knew those houses sitting under their magnificent magnolia trees covered in Spanish moss, their spacious porches and beautifully restored facades were to only be taken at face value.

Those houses had been restored and slapped with a “Historical landmark” seal from the City, but weren’t ever occupied for very long and often had a sign in the newly manicured lawn proclaiming it for sale or lease. Those kinds of houses stayed in the family, and the family never liked living in them because the skeletons hidden in the woodwork only spoke when family came home.

He reached downtown, where Fairhope Avenue met Section Street, and waited patiently at the “No Right Turn on Red” sign as tourists and locals alike chattered and crossed the street, clutching bags, drinks, ice cream or phones. A few shot a glance at the quietly thrumming Rolls Royce, and Hux knew the locals were wondering what new money had come to town, or which old money had come back.

Across the street and to the left was the old pharmacy. Years ago, the building had been solid white aluminium siding, painted with the pharmacy’s logo in bright red and blue. Then, when Hurricane Ivan had torn through the Gulf Coast, it had ripped away the siding, revealing old brick, multiple glass windows and a completely 1920’s aesthetic that the town had forgotten existed. The exterior had been restored, and the pharmacy enjoyed a greater draw for tourism- as it was not only a pharmacy, but a gift shop.

The light changed, and Hux revved the engine ever so slightly to warn a pedestrian he was turning- a tourist who’d been taking a selfie by the town’s old lamp post clock and had been about to step onto the crosswalk. She stepped back, looking embarrassed, and Hux turned onto Section Street.

Maz’s castle wasn’t far now.

He passed the farmer’s market, the old library that now was town records, and turned right at the art museum. Just beyond it, at the end of the street and across a bridge made of stone and cobbles, was Maz’s castle.

It quite literally was a castle- a home built similarly to Old English style with an attached tower with picturesque windows and a pointed roof atop. It boasted cobblestone paths and a glorious garden- one on either side of the house. One was nothing but flowers, benches and a koi pond. The other was a vegetable garden, lined with rows of herbs that helped keep insects away.

Hux parked in the cobbled driveway and got out. Though there was no real need to, he beeped the alarm and locked the car. Old habits die hard. The beep wouldn’t have even been necessary to get Maz’s attention, however. She was already waiting at the door, hands on her hips, wearing her usual apron that was stained with paint and clay. Her long dreadlocks were pulled back with a bright blue scarf, and her round, gold rimmed glasses were perched on her wide elegant nose. She was staring at him through those glasses now.

“It’s about time you showed up,” she chided. “Get in here, I just made tea.”

She turned on her heel, her long locks swaying against her back, and strode back inside. Hux grinned sheepishly and followed the short slender woman inside. The interior of the castle was comfortably cluttered with old furniture, artwork, plants, bookshelves stuffed to the brim with old texts that filled the room with the scent of yellowed pages and cracked leather. The scent of tea mingled with the old book smell, and somewhere in the depths of the castle, a parrot shrieked a long line of blasphemies.

“I see Emmie is still alive,” Hux commented dryly. Maz snickered softly. 

“That bird is older than me, and you know she’ll outlive me,” she replied as the cockatoo let loose another line of shrieking swears. 

“As potty mouthed as ever, too, I see.”

“That bird had a sailor for her first owner, and you know that, but I won’t discourage it. It makes for amusing company,” Maz said as she settled into an overstuffed wicker eggshell chair. 

Hux sat in the leather chair across the coffee table from her, the old tired cushions letting out a beleaguered sigh as his weight settled over them. Maz poured from a large plastic pitcher full of golden tea and clinking ice, filling a brightly painted glass. She used a pair of small tongs to put a few slices of lemon and orange into the glass, then shoved it across the table at Hux before filling her own.

“Honeysuckle and blueberry,” Maz said brightly, adding citrus to her own drink. “And freshly made lemon cookies with icing.”

“You knew I was coming, then,” Hux said as he took a cookie, placing it in his mouth and letting it melt away in a blissful mix of buttery shortbread, lemon and sugar. It wasn’t a question. 

“Of course I did,” Maz replied, taking a long sip of tea, the ice clinking against her glass as she set it back down. “The Hux family patriarch passes away and the dairy isn’t put up for auction? Tongues wag and speculate, and the whole town knows before the good Patron Hux is put to coroner. Everyone was watching 98 and 90 to see when you’d come rolling back in.”

“Won’t they be surprised to see just who came back,” Hux said dryly, taking a long appreciate sip of tea. It was cold and sweet, floral, with the bite of citrus and hints of blueberry. Perfect, as he expected Maz’s sweet to be, and he sighed in contentment.

“I figured you’d be wanting proper sweet tea, after dealing with the cow spit they call tea up north,” she chuckled, her eyes glittering with mirth. 

“I did, this is perfect, thank you,” Hux drawled, his own suppressed accent slipping a bit as he relaxed. It was so easy to do so around Maz, she didn’t judge, just made you feel at home. 

Maz squinted at him. 

"Stand up, let me look at you," she instructed gently. 

Hux did as asked, and turned in a small circle, letting her get a good look at him. She nodded in approval, her eyes sparkling warmly. 

"Much better," she proclaimed. "You look like you finally feel at home in your skin."

"But is it enough?" Hux asked quietly. "Do I look the part enough to pass?" 

Maz snorted as he sat back down in the worn leather chair. 

"I'd tell you that you look like any other man in this tiny narrow minded town, but you don't, Sebastian Hux," she said firmly. "You look like a man who knows what he wants, and takes it. You look like the man you always were."

"But is it enough?" Hux asked again, though visibly touched by her sentiment. 

Maz sighed and leaned back in her chair. 

"There will be very few people who will recognise you as you are now, and I'm not saying that to placate you- I know that kind of sugar coating can be dangerous. Yes, Sebastian, you pass as a cis man in body and face, but your eyes have more experience and depth than most, if not all cis men, and that will frighten some people."

Hux smiled, albeit a bit sardonically. It was enough. 

"Thank you, Maz."

“Now, for the real reason I wanted to talk to you,” Maz said, changing the mood entirely, getting to her feet. She snatched a cookie off the plate with her long slender fingers and popped it into her mouth before walking off to a cluttered shelf.

“Oh, I just put it out, don’t tell me it- AH HA!”

Hux watched, leaning forward in readiness to get up if she needed help, and saw her knock over a stack of books that had clearly just toppled off the higher shelf onto the box she now held triumphantly. 

“Here,” she said, dropping the box into his lap. Hux grunted- it was heavier than it looked. Maz chuckled and plopped back into her seat.

“That is the housewarming kit,” she said simply. “When your father died, it was given to me to give to you.”

Hux opened the box- he knew it now that it was in his lap. He remembered seeing it on his father’s desk, locked tight, the black stained wood polished. It wasn’t locked now, but the tarnished silver keys were in the top drawer, nestled in the antique black velvet. 

He lifted the top drawer and underneath, was a mismatch of various items that seemed alien, arcane, and strange: a silver pentagram, cross, and ankh on a chain; a black bag that contained rock salt and various gems; a large black claw the length of his hand that made chills run down his spine at how sharp and large it was; a pure white tooth equally sharp and freakishly large, similar to the claw; a long, black handled knife; an empty phial with a silver cap attached to its own chain; and finally, a black leather-bound book with yellowed pages that looked ancient, its cover cracked and worn to a buttery softness. 

Hux looked up at her, bewildered.

“What is this?”

“The more pressing question is, have you seen him yet?” Maz asked. Hux blinked. 

“Who?”

“The resident grump that skulks around your property,” she replied. 

“The only thing I’ve seen are paw prints so big that my hand fits in the main paw pad in the mud outside my house… And cloven hoof prints the size of dinner plates," Hux said slowly, looking back to the claw and tooth in the black box. 

His mind was comparing the prints in the mud with the claw, the tooth, and his mouth went dry, despite the tea he’d just drank. 

“Maz… what is it?”

Her face was serious, solemn. 

“The resident grump. He has no name, but he’s older than names. Older than the blood that ties him to the land. He’s… the baggage that comes with the property, and only someone from your bloodline can hold the keys to that box until there is no one left.” 

“Older than names? What is it… he?”

“You’ve had the dreams, I take it? About the hanging?”

Hux didn’t bother asking how she knew. 

“Who was that woman?”

“Mary Benson. A widow who had land your forefather wanted, and was hanged for it. In retribution, she showed the folly of the judge by cursing the land, and all of those with his blood to be haunted by his greed. That greed, that corruption of power, mixed with the shed blood of the innocent, took form in the shadow of a creature that knows no definition except its own desires.

“His purpose is to terrorise, to dog every step, to seek vengeance on each of the Hux line, until there is none left- preferably by his own claws. That is why only a Hux can have the land, or, if one is ever found, one of the line of Benson that might exist. One of the line of Benson can truly calm and tame the monster, but the blood of Hux riles him up and infuriates him, drives his need to kill.”

“These,” Hux said, lifting the hefty claw in one hand, the fang in the other, “Are these from it?”

They felt real. Too heavy, too smooth, and bone chillingly cold in his hands. Too real. Terrifying. Maz simply nodded. 

“You keep one or the other on you at all times. It’s a form of dominance, and the only weapon that can hurt him,” she said. “Nothing else can cause damage to the creature.”

“So what are the medallions for? The salt? The crystals?”

“Family methods at keeping him at bay that never really worked, save for keeping him out of places he wasn’t wanted. Rock salt, left in a bowl with silver overnight, can be used to make a boundary. The medallions, buried under the threshold of any main entrance, can repel him from any building you don’t want him poking around in.”

Hux sat back, shoving another cookie into his mouth to cover the grimace that was spreading over his face- a grimace of disbelief, both shock and not wanting to believe what he was hearing was real. 

But he’d seen the prints. He’d been woken up in the middle of the night by… something. He’d felt something watching him.

_There was the figure in the slaughterhouse, don’t forget that,_ the nasty inner voice whispered. 

“So what do I do?” he finally asked. 

“Put a medallion in your car, under the threshold of your house, and in the stables. It’ll keep him out, keep him away from that horse I hear you have boarded for now,” Maz said.

“And the book?” Hux asked. He was afraid to touch it, but his eyes kept moving back to the black, worn cover. Maz shook her head. 

“I don’t know what’s in it. Not allowed to know. It’s between you… and him. Between your father and him, his father, and his father…. And him.”

Hux swallowed, the last few crumbs of shortbread catching in his throat, and he took a long sip of tea to keep from coughing. 

“You keep calling it ‘him.’ Why?”

“Because that’s what he is. No woman could be that evil, save for calling it to exact her vengeance,” Maz said softly. 

“What do I do if it- he- comes after me? Will he?” Hux asked. 

“Don’t doubt that for a second, Sebastian,” Maz replied. “He’ll show, and soon. Surprised he didn’t try your first night- I’d actually hoped you’d visit before spending the first night, but he left you alone, for whatever reason.”

Emmie broke the somber mood with a litany of curses and squawking as she waddled across the floor into the room, her crest fully extended. Maz sighed and reached down to offer her hand to the surly cockatoo, who clambered onto it. Maz lifted her and let the old bird saunter over her shoulder and onto the back of the chair, where Emmie fluffed her feathers and shook her tail in contentment. 

“Old coot,” Maz said affectionately before becoming serious again. 

“Assert dominance. Use the tooth or the claw, and slash at him. If you can draw first blood, you can make him think twice about attacking you. He’ll keep his distance while he measures you to size. By then, you can … work out an arrangement, like your father did.”

“An arrangement?” Hux echoed.

“That’s not for me to say, as I don’t know. It’s in that book.”

He looked down at the book, then looked at the phial. He picked it up and held it up for Maz. 

“And this?”

“In the book. I only know the story, not the gory details,” came the reply- halfway muted by a squawk from Emmie. 

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

Maz pushed another cookie in her mouth, and offered a finger covered in crumbs to Emmie. The cockatoo delicately used her odd bird tongue to lick a few crumbs off Maz’s finger, and made a happy “Praaaap!” sound before fluffing her feathers again. 

“It’s possible to live with him- an armistice, if you will, a truce, if you offer him something. When the dairy was running, the Hux attached to the creature would offer a calf every spring and all the fresh milk the old beast could drink. There were other things, things whispered about- milk and blood and pregnant cows, but I’m sure you can find a way that’s a little more environmentally friendly,” she finally said. 

“Every Hux has had their own unique relationship with the beast.”

“So you don’t know anything else? Despite knowing everything?” Hux quipped. She smirked, but it was weary.

“There are things even I’m not able to know, Sebastian. If you want to know, it’ll be in that book. But I warn you- make sure you’ve barred the beast before opening it, as he doesn’t like people knowing about his past, his weakness, or promises he might have made and left unfulfilled. My job was to give you the box and warn you, let you know. The rest is up to you.”

“How do you even know about all of this, Maz?” Hux asked. Maz gave him a Look that said everything, and nothing. 

“I’ve been here a long time, Sebastian Hux, and my mother, my mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother even longer. My bloodline is tied to yours just as tightly.”

Hux looked at her cautiously, worried about overstepping societal boundaries. 

“How so?”

“Widow Benson and one of the mothers of my bloodline were cut from the same cloth. Women displaced from their native homes, cut off from their heritage and families, and damned by men in positions of power for not adhering to their faith- or rules,” Maz said. 

“Witches?” Hux asked curiously. Maz laughed.

“Witch, priestess, pagan, heathen, they’re all the same to white Christian men.”

She sobered. 

“The women of my line don’t take kindly to spirits wandering this world without purpose of their own. When they have their own purpose, they accomplish their goals and go home. Creatures like that old Grump, bound by the desperate vengeance of an angry woman, they have no goal, only an open ended order.”

Emmie turned her head almost completely upside down and flared her wings, making an odd sound that could only be a laugh. Maz laughed in reply and prodded the bird’s fluffy chest with a long elegant finger. Emmie squawked and tossed her head. 

“My family has always watched him, and set boundaries. When a Hux is killed, or makes a deal and passes away, there’s usually a lull, a stretch where a Hux heir does not occupy the land. When the land is empty, the creature becomes bored and hungry- especially since he knows there are direct descendants he should be going after. When he’s bored, he terrorises the town.”

“Terrorises the town? How?” Hux asked, frowning. 

“He takes the form of a large black dog- your stereotypical Black Shuck, Grimm, Old Tom, Barghest, Hellhound, Cŵn Annwn, take your pick. He appears different to everyone who sees him- unless they have the sense and sight to know what they’re looking at. Most folks see an overgrown Belgian Shepherd- but they call him a pure black German Shepherd.”

“And what does he really look like?” Hux asked. 

“Depends on what he wants you to see. His true form is monstrous, but I’ve never seen all of it. His usual ‘going about town’ appearance is a pure black mutt of a size that makes people do a double take, then get confused, because they can’t tell if he’s really that big, or if he’s just an intimidating dog- and he skulks in the cemetery, lurks on the roadside, or hides in the woods along the nature walk, all to stalk and scare locals. Sometimes he even kills a vagrant or two,” Maz replied, taking a long sip of her tea. 

“If I had to define it, it’d be a mix of Belgian Sheepdog, wolf, and Borzoi. He has an odd, long snout and slender build of a Borzoi, but with the snappish, feral set and posture of a wolf, and all the fluff of the Belgian. What really sets people on edge, though, is his eyes. They’re too intelligent- and expressive- like a person staring out at you from behind a living dog costume.”

“So where do the hooves come in?”

“Never seen hooves on him. He must have been skulking around in his true form. Lucky you came here- he isn’t wasting _much_ time with you.”

Hux rubbed his forehead, his head starting to throb. Sensing his mood, Maz poured more tea for him. 

“Now,” she said brightly. “Tell me about that horse of yours.”

\-----

Maz waited until the car was out of sight, then stood in the gate, hands on her hips and a Look on her face.  
  
“You get your unholy tail out of my azaleas, you nasty skulking beastie,” she chided.  
  
A vaguely canine head poked out of the azalea bush and blinked balefully at the old woman with amber eyes. Casual onlookers would comment on how large the canine was, and might argue about his breed- a Borzoi, perhaps, or a Shepherd of some kind.

His muzzle was slightly too wolfish, the teeth a bit too long and the ears more upright. The dog’s coat was inky black, long, wavy and luxurious, and there almost seemed to be a sheen to it, similar to a crow’s wing.  
  
The dog huffed, shaking magenta petals from itself as it pulled free of the bush. It had the general shape of a borzoi, but the hunch of the shoulders, the set of the spine and the thickness of the coat and tail pointed at mixed blood of something a bit more feral.  
  
All of which was more pronounced by the fact that the dog was a monstrous size, tall as a Clydesdale- something no one failed to notice if they were close enough, and happened to see the dog while standing in shadow. At the moment, the dog was in the walkway, and to any untrained eye, he was the size of an average sighthound.  
  
“He just left, you slow old coot,” Maz continued, ignoring the expression on the dog’s face- for the dog was indeed giving her an exasperated look as it sat on its haunches in the walkway.  
  
“I gave him the box,” she said. “So don’t you go poking that long snout where it shouldn’t go, or you’ll get burned again.”  
  
There was a curling of the dog’s muzzle and a clearly frustrated snarl, the ears lying flat. A cloud passed over the sun, and as the shadows fell over the dog, there was the briefest glimpse of what lay beneath the fur. 

The dog’s face was gone, replaced by a skull, sockets empty, and a long grey-pink tongue lolling from between wickedly sharp fangs, all surrounded by the furry ruff of the dog’s neck. The full size of the monster was revealed by the shade, but Maz didn’t even blink.  
  
“Go on with you,” she snapped. “You know better than I do those shenanigans don’t work on me, you mangy cur.”

It stared at her pointedly, and Maz pointed a finger at him, the many bracelets, bangles and rings adorning her fingers and wrists jangling and shining in the sun. 

“Don’t you make me get the cast iron skillet, Grump. I’ve had salt sitting in it all night, just for you.”  
  
The creature hefted itself to its feet and shook violently, sending the last of twigs, leaves and petals flying. The cloud passed, and once again, it looked like a borzoi mixed with… something else. It gave a most unpleasant snort, flicked its tail and began trotting down the sidewalk. Maz watched it go, her face a study in various emotions.  
  
“That boy is gonna have his hands full with that beast. I only hope that what I could do will be enough.”

\---

The monster wearing a dog’s skin trotted down Section Street, claws clicking on the sidewalk as he loped through the dappled sunlight shining through heavy oak branches. He paused in front of one of the “historical” houses, muzzle pointing towards the wrap-around porch, and his ears flattened. 

On the porch swing, a tanned gentleman was drinking a Long Island Iced Tea, careful not to get any on his cream coloured seersucker suit. His dark brown hair was pulled back, and his goatee was immaculate. His green eyes were fixed on the creature standing near the walkway leading to his house. His upper lip curled slightly under his manicured moustache, his white teeth flashing brilliantly in his tanned, bearded face. 

The door opened and another tanned man came out onto the porch, holding his own glass and wearing pressed white slacks with a white, long sleeved shirt. The sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows, and his black hair was slicked back. His mahogany coloured eyes also flicked to the not-quite-dog standing at the end of the walkway. 

“Go on with you,” the man in the suit said, lifting a pistol from seemingly nowhere and levelling it at the dog’s head. “Get.”

The monster bared his long, numerous teeth, and took one step forward, but whined as his front paw sizzled on something unseen between the gate posts. He backpedalled, tail between his legs, and skittered away. 

Jorj watched the monster go, then turned his attention to his husband. 

“The Hux plot is taken again, it seems, but the stray hasn’t properly attached to him yet,” he said. 

“We’ll have to keep fending him off for a bit longer.”

The retired Admiral made a grunt as he sat down next to his husband. 

“Will he leave us be, once he does?”

Jorj nodded, taking another sip of his drink. 

“He will, Mithra. Not even sure why he lurks about here.”

Mithra lifted a black eyebrow.

“He didn’t, until that young woman came over to look at your car. Now he pokes his nose in once a month. It has everything to do with her, I think,” he said before tilting back a long sip and leaning against Jorj- enough to make contact, but not enough to muss their clothing. They had company coming over later, after all. 

“Well, hopefully he won’t come over again after this,” Jorj commented, pressing against Mithra. 

“Had enough of that nonsense to last a lifetime, and I won’t have it come into our home. I left the Appalaichians for a reason.”

Mithra squeezed Jorj’s wrist.

“It won’t,” he promised. 

“I thought small towns in the South meant this black magic wouldn’t be a problem,” Jorj groused. 

Mithra snorted.

“That’s what makes it _worse,_ love.”

Jorj sighed and made a mental note to get his hands on another set of rusty railroad spikes- maybe even a few as a housewarming present for the returned heir of the Woodhaven Dairy. 

\----

“I’d think this was crazy if I didn’t see the paw prints,” Hux murmured to himself as he stuck the pentacle into the hole he’d dug under the steps. He sprinkled salt over it, then placed a handful of gravel over it to keep it from being washed away if the ground was soaked. He pushed the soil back over it and stood, stomping on it to pack it down hard as he dusted his hands off. 

He eyed the stables, but thought better of it- he’d be doing work on them for a while before he even considered bringing Millicent in, so he decided to hang on to one of the two remaining pendants. He pulled them out of his pocket and weighed them in his palm, the silver cross and silver ankh. 

Cross would be better to keep on him- if anyone saw it, they’d assume he was a good Christian man. A laughable idea, but good a cover as any. The ankh would be tucked under the coin tray in the centre console. 

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but he dropped his eyes back to the remaining prints in the dirt, and he didn’t entirely feel as ridiculous. He crouched and ran his fingers over the deep depressions, the paw pads, the marks of long claws. 

“Or… maybe not quite.” 

“No, you’re right. It is ridiculous,” said a soft, deep voice from behind him. 

Hux whirled around, nearly falling on his ass in the dirt as he did so, toes hitting the heel of his other foot and knocking him askew. He got to his feet and stood, heart pounding in his throat as he saw a man standing there at the edge of the grass by the fence. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “This is private property!”

The man looked young, almost youthful, with a long, thoughtful face. His large eyes were deep set, his nose aquiline above full and sensuous lips. He had a soft jawline and a stubborn chin, with a spattering of beauty marks over his pale skin. His thick wavy hair was black, falling gently to his broad shoulders. 

Those full lips curved into a smirk, a long dimple forming along his cheek. A soft laugh issued from his throat, and white teeth flashed, the dark eyes glittering under the thick black brows. The face of a young man with the eyes of a demon. 

“It’s _our_ property,” he corrected, and the tone was akin to a low rumble in his throat. “And it’s ridiculous to try to keep me out of my own home.”

“You… you’re the grump,” was all Hux could say, and the young man blinked. 

All mirth faded from his face, replaced by confusion, then it darkened into a scowl, his lip curling and eyes becoming black in the increased shadow of his heavyset brows. The teeth that glinted under the curled lip looked far sharper than they ought. 

“You talked to Maz.”

“Yes, I talked to Maz. Everyone knows Maz,” Hux retorted. 

“No. You talked to Maz, and she told you about me before we could be properly introduced, and she shared her ridiculous name for me with you.”

The disdain and displeasure was plain in his voice, on his face. It practically vibrated in the air around him. It was then that Hux noticed what he was wearing. A frock coat, of all things, in a cut he last recalled seeing in a movie version of Dorian Gray. 

Under the coat, he wore black shirt with a cravat of dark red, black pants and black leather boots. Hux was halfway surprised that his hair wasn’t tied back with a ribbon, regency style. His fashion looked like he’d been lost somewhere between 1812 and the 1890’s. 

He was even wearing black gloves, for crying out loud. 

“Grump is clearly understating your love of black,” he finally said. 

A deepening of the scowl was Hux’s only answer. 

“If this is all you’re here to do, annoy me, trespass, and scowl, then I’m not afraid of you, whatever you are,” Hux sniffed, then headed to his car, opening the door and dropping the ankh under the coin tray. He replaced the tray and shut the door, satisfied, even if he only half believed the amulets would do anything. 

He turned around to find the man a foot away.

It was clear he’d meant to get closer, to touch him, perhaps? The glittering between his full lips hinted at teeth meant for tearing, and Hux felt something cold and heavy fall into his stomach at the sight of them. The eyes were pure black at this range, and the air around the man- the monster- was cold, as if someone had opened the door to a freezer. 

Hux backpedalled, his back slamming against the Phantom, and the creature masquerading as a man came closer, then stopped. His muscles strained under his shirt, and his toes dug into the grass, but he was unable to come any closer. 

His frame trembled from the effort, and the teeth no longer hinted at fangs- they were fangs, far too many of them, and the sensuous mouth was now too wide and was dripping saliva that frothed in rage. 

Hux edged around the car, his knees wobbly and feeling as though they’d been made of foam and poorly poured silicone. The monster followed, clearly straining at something that Hux couldn’t see, but the cross in his pocket seemed heavier, felt almost warm. 

The tooth, however, was as cold as ice, and almost throbbed in his other pocket. Hux thrust his hand into his pocket, grabbed it, then nearly dropped it- it was so cold, it burned. He hissed softly as he grabbed it again and, ignoring the cold, withdrew his hand and slashed the tooth at the monster whose form was slowly turning black and was losing its humanity- and corporealness. 

The tooth made contact with the creature’s face, opening the- _Good gods, is that a muzzle forming?-_ skin from right cheek to left brow. The creature parted its jaws- _fuck me, that’s a muzzle, and it’s turning to bone, that’s a_ **_skull_ ** _-_ and _wailed._

The sound that escaped the fanged bony maw was a cacophony of hissing, wailing and guttural growling all at once that sounded as if it came from the bottom of a nearly dry well. The kind of well that has water at the bottom full of rotted vegetation, possibly drowned animals desperate enough to try for a drink, and the unknown filth that thrived in such fetid depths. 

The scent that issued from between the jaws was at once both horrifying and intoxicating. It was the scent of swampy woods at night, of night blooming flowers, of algae choked water, of cedar and birch, of pecan and pine and oak, of spanish moss and dead grass. The scent of flowers was heavy with indole- almost enough to change the fragrance from that of heavily musky blooms to the scent of rot. 

The monster’s breath smelled of death, decay, and of hidden life stirring in the night laced with the beauty of night dwelling flora and fauna. It tempted just as it repulsed, and Hux found himself torn between yearning to bury his face in the chest of the monster to inhale the delicious scent, and running, as far and as fast as his legs would carry him from the aberration- which was now sporting thick, long black fur that swirled like smoke. 

Fear won over the odd desire the scent rose in him, and turning on his heel, Hux fled into the house, slamming and locking the door. He heard the wailing continue, growing closer as the creature pursued its prey. 

He looked out the window just in time to see a quadrupedal monstrosity of swirling, smoke-like fur, a fleshless head with raking antlers, spines jutting from its back- or was that the spikes of its very spine? A long tail lashed in rage, and the claws of the front paws dug furrows into the ground as it pawed in impotent rage at being denied its quarry. Black blood still dripped from its face, an inky mark gouged in the bone where Hux had struck it with the tooth.

_“The medallions, buried under the threshold of any main entrance, can repel him from any building you don’t want him poking around in.”_

Maz’s words echoed in his head, and Hux blinked, his vision blurry as a drop of sweat ran down his brow and trickled into his eye, stinging with salt. He blinked it away furiously, unable to move from the window as he watched the monster pace back and forth, still making horrifying noises. 

How had Maz been so nonchalant about that thing? And called it “The Grump” as if it were a joke? This… this _thing_ was no joke, it was _terrifying._

Finally pulling himself away from the window, only slightly confident that the creature couldn’t get in, he went upstairs and rummaged through his boxes. Ten minutes of searching produced a silver chain, which he promptly slid the cross onto, then fastened around his neck. He immediately felt safer as the cross’ cool smooth edges rested against his chest. He heard the angry howls still ringing over the property from outside, and he shuddered violently.

Moments later, the entire house shuddered as something _large_ and very, very _angry_ landed on the roof. Claws and hooves scratched and scrabbled on the tin, and the ungodly cacophony of sounds continue to issue from the maw of the demon determined to devour him. 

Hux elected to try sleeping in the living room that night, on his couch, which he pushed into the middle of the room so it was in the centre of the house, with as much space on all sides and above him as possible. 

Try was the operative word. The hellhound scratched, scrabbled, howled, snarled and paced around, over, and on top of the house all night. When his impotent fury failed, he resorted to luring, which, all things considered, was far more frightening.

“I’m sorry,” the monster said outside the kitchen door almost pleadingly. “I get blindsided by Maz and her insufferable methods.”

Hux refused to answer, wrapped in his duvet, eyes wide and bloodshot. It was two am, he had all the lights off, and there was that beautiful young man outside his door, pale face practically glowing in the moonlight in the window of the kitchen door. 

“We can make an arrangement. Surely she told you about how it’s been done before. I prefer them over simple destruction, really. They work better for everyone involved.”

Hux was silent as he lit a cigarette, his self imposed rule of only smoking on the porch be damned- because _he’d_ be damned if he was going out there at that moment. 

“Just talk to me. Come to the door. Let’s talk, Sebasssstiaaannn,” the monster crooned, Hux’s name stretching and rolling languidly over his tongue as he tasted it. 

Hux wanted to snap at it to go away, but his gut told him that speaking out loud to it right now would be letting it win, and get a foothold somehow. A foothold on what, in where, he couldn’t say, didn’t know. He _did_ know that his voice needed to be silent right then. 

Silence washed over the house, and the beautiful pale face disappeared from the window. Hux remained tense, wrapped in his blankets, smoke curling around him. Outside, clouds covered the moon, and a darkness thicker than anything Hux had ever known fell over the house. 

He put his cigarette out when ash fell on the duvet, and he hurriedly brushed it away to keep the expensive comforter from burning. All the while, the silence, the darkness, and his pulse all hummed in his ears, and adrenaline sang in his veins. 

Perhaps, just maybe, the monster had given up, and slunk back to the slaughterhouse for the night, Hux hoped. Maybe he could finally get some sleep and-

**_CRACK._ **

The kitchen door shuddered in its frame as something _massive_ slammed into it, and dust showered down from the ceiling onto Hux and the couch as the entire house reverberated from the impact. 

The clouds had passed, and the setting moon illuminated the world outside in a blinding flash of white. Hux was confused- why was the light so bright outside the window? 

He looked closer at the window, and his blood ran cold, turned to slush in his veins, his pulse screeching violently to a halt as it dawned on him that it wasn’t moonlight blinding him. 

It was the broad forehead of a bleached skull pressed against the window.

A skull so big, that it only registered as being a skull in Hux’s mind when the creature moved to peer in through the window, the white orbital ridge gleaming against the abyss of the empty socket. 

The front of the muzzle was visible in the window on the same wall of the door, four feet away. Fangs as long as Hux’s arm glittered in the moonlight, saliva dribbling between the massive teeth. The house made a slight protest as the monster pushed against the door to peer in at him with its empty eye socket. 

Hux stared in mute horror, his mouth dry, heart restarted at triple speed, his body shaking from the conflicting desires of staying perfectly still and _running, oh God, he should run, he needed to leave, but where could he go?_

The window had a silvery spider web of cracks running through it, and the glass made squeaking, crackling sounds as the monster pressed close. 

“ _Sebaaasssstiaaannn,”_ the horror outside crooned in the same beautiful, soothing and seductive voice it had used earlier in the skin of a man- but with a far more impatient and malevolent tone. 

Steam rolled from under the door and along the sides between the door and its frame as his name was called by the monster. 

It was eighty degrees outside- or it should have been. Hux was too numb from terror to register if he was cold or hot, and was hung up on the phenomenon of the creature’s breath turning to vapour and rolling under his door. 

Was its breath that cold? Or was its presence making the air around it so cold that its breath- equal parts fetid, delicious and entirely horrifying- turned to vapour?

The empty eye socket staring at him flared with light, and one of the red eyes he’d seen that first evening glared at him, a smouldering red ball set deep in the shadows of the skull, the colour of a blood clot left to turn gooey and sticky in the sun. 

_“Don’t be afraid, Sebaaassstiaaannn,” it purred. “I won’t hurt you.”_

Hux continued to stare, and refused to move- a deer in the pinning light of a hunter’s trap. 

There was another shudder, and the window exploded into glittering shards of silver, blue and white in the moonlight as the monster headbutted the door again in furious desire to reach its prey. 

_“The longer you make me wait, the longer it will take to meet your destined end, and I can make it last centuries if I wish it.”_

Hux finally broke his frozen terror filled stasis as the muzzle of fangs- so many fangs- shoved through the frame of the door’s broken window, crushing and breaking the remaining glass into shards that clinked and clattered on the linoleum floor. 

Steaming breath roiled in clouds through the kitchen as the monster stuck its muzzle into Hux’s kitchen, making an odd sound that was similar to the combination of an orca’s clicking echolocation, an alligator’s territorial bellow, and the low warning rumble of a bull elephant. 

All of which vibrated the floors of the house.

Hux struggled to get up and out of the cocoon he’d made of his duvet, and fell out of it onto the floor. He skittered backwards on his hands and feet in a crab walk until his back hit the cold stone of the fireplace. 

The muzzle withdrew, and the skull turned to stare through the window again, the blood clot eye locking gazes with his. 

“ _I will skin you with my tongue, flay you open to your core to taste your marrow and you will scream until your throat breaks and your lungs bleed while I make you one with me, Sebastian- and you will scream because it will be beyond the pale of any pleasure your mortal mind could ever imagine.”_

Steamy breath rolled under the door, and Hux could see the saliva puddling onto the floor in the broken glass as the monster drooled in desire of the mortal flesh within its sights. The voice had grown low, throaty, thick with hunger, need- and lust. 

Hux felt his stomach tighten, his loins catch fire with what was unmistakable arousal- was it from the voice, the promises, the scent of its horrible, but delicious breath? Was it adrenaline making his body react in ridiculous, absurd ways to the inconceivable terror before him?

Sebastian Hux, overwhelmed with fear, confusion, fatigue, anger and arousal, felt his primal hindbrain take control as his consciousness lost its grip on the situation, unable to come to terms with it.

At that moment, between the waking and the instinct, in the change of control between the hindbrain and thinking brain, dignity was lost, and Hux wet himself on the living room floor. 

Repulsed by being in his own waste, Hux instinctively kicked out of pants and flung them away from himself. In doing so, the errant pants knocked over the bowl of salt he’d had sitting on the side table, and the large salt crystals scattered over the floor- some reaching the kitchen. 

The moonlight bounced off the puddle of drool, the shards of glass, and refracted dully through the crystals of salt- and back towards the monster. 

The reaction was instantaneous. The garish eye retreated, the awful roar sounded- this time in pain- and there was a thundering of paws and hooves as the terror retreated into the fading night, and into the depths of the slaughterhouse. 

Drained, crashing from his adrenaline high, soaked in his own piss, exhausted, and terrified, Hux crawled to the bathroom. He managed to shed his clothes and get into the tub to wash himself of the filth and stink of terror, but didn’t have the energy or the courage to go back to his room or the couch. 

Hux yanked every towel he owned from the cabinet and made a nest of them in the bathtub, hunkering down and sleeping until three in the afternoon. 

Thankfully, he didn’t dream. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Work, Work, Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux gets to work repairing his home- and setting up defences. Kylo doesn't take kindly to intruders. Meanwhile, Hux takes the reins of the family business.

The encounter with the monster did one good thing for Hux: He stopped doubting the reality of his situation, and took it seriously. 

He went straight to Maz- first to ask why she had been so flippant, so casual about the Thing on his land, then to ask about what sort of precautions he could take to protect himself. 

Maz had suspected the beast was getting stronger- and bigger- over the years, but hearing Hux tell her of his encounter confirmed her suspicions, and she made up for the lapse in judgement by plying all her knowledge- and boxes of supplies- on him. 

Hux left her home with his trunk full of boxes containing tubs of coarse salt crystals, various glass bottles, jars of aged herbs, bowls made of pewter, a pure silver dagger, rusted nails, and more than three dozen rusted iron railroad spikes. The spikes, she said, were a house warming gift from a neighbour of hers. 

The spikes had been wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine- double wrapped to keep the rust flakes and dust from spilling out, which Hux had been grateful for. On the paper, written in a flowing, old-fashioned looking cursive, was a note:

_Welcome home. Bury these along any boundaries you want to set. They won’t keep him out forever, but they will cause him a great deal of annoyance, and a decent amount of pain to keep him discouraged while you work on your arrangement. If you need assistance, give me a ring._

_-Jorj Car’das._

Beneath the note a number was written, along with “ _try not to call after sunset unless it’s an emergency.”_

Hux assumed that applied to asking Car’das to come visit- he’d grown up with the knowledge that it was unwise to be outside the house after dark. His grandmother had told him the coyotes were too bold.

He knew better now, but wondered why he’d never seen his window full of gleaming bone and glittering fangs as a child. Had it simply never registered him as being a point of interest- even one of future interest?

Along with the supplies, Maz had given him a very long list of references. The first on the list was a handful of metalworkers who could help him get as many silver ornaments as he needed at a discount- one of them was able and willing to shod Millicent’s hooves with shoes made with silver mixed in, something Hux already had sent an email about. 

Next was a group of dependable workers who would do quick work on his property to do needed repairs- Maz especially recommended a plumber-slash-electrician who “worked in the same business” as herself. 

“Translation,” Maz had said when he lifted his brows, confused, “He’s one of us- those who work in the dark so others may live in the light. You’re one of us now, too, Sebastian, and it’s time to get you networked with the rest of us.”

The rest were historians, feed-and-seed suppliers, craftsmen, and lastly, a young woman who, according to Maz, “Will do better work on your Phantom than a dealer’s best mechanic trying to ace a quarterly review.” Apparently, she did maintenance and repairs for many cars in the micropolitan area- including work on some of Thomas Hospital’s ambulances and the Fire Department’s trucks. 

Hux eyed the woman’s references- she was still practically a girl, barely over nineteen- with some doubt, but at this point, he wasn’t willing to take anything Maz recommended lightly. He added the mechanic’s number to his contacts- Rey- in case he’d need work done on his Rolls. 

Considering he'd had the Phantom less than two years, he hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary any time soon. 

* * *

The next few days were spent in a frenzy of warding- not that he’d ever get used to that word. Warding. Wards. Sigils. Spells.

Witch Bottles. 

Most of it was Appalaichian folk magic, with a few twists here and there from the various influences of Maz and Car’das- Maz’s Haitian heritage, and some touches from Car’das’ heritage that was as of yet unknown. 

Hux made sure to ward the house first- random pieces of charged silver at strategic places in the house, like window sills, doorways, the porch, and other access points and thresholds. 

Each room had a pouch deposited into the outermost corner that corresponded to the points of a compass. Each black cloth pouch contained a mixture of salt, quartz, knuckle bones, a piece of silver, a dried habanero, and star anise. 

Maz had given Hux instructions on how to create a Witch Bottle- the most important thing being that he should use the glass the monster had broken that evening. Hux had been mortified, given some of the reagents necessary, but he’d gathered them anyway- piss, spit, blood and all- and created the bottle, then buried it at the side of the house under his bedroom window. 

Then he’d buried the spikes in the ground, creating a line that separated the house, stables and storage building from the woods- and the slaughterhouse within. He kept the line of rusted iron spikes decently close; he figured that encroaching too close to the monster’s den wouldn’t do him any favours- and he intended letting the beast have everything on that side of the line of spikes. 

He’d covered the broken window frame with a tarp until he could get someone in to replace it- along with someone to replace the AC units in the windows for an actual unit to provide a more central form of cooling. 

He had the money, thanks to the family estate and will, and he was legally- and, he suspected, supernaturally- bound to the house. He might as well spend a small bit of his fortune making it safe and comfortable. 

He did all this work during the day, and his own schedule became attuned to the sun. Hux was awake and getting dressed as the sky began to turn pink and gold, eating his breakfast and getting to work as the sun breached the horizon. 

All the outdoor work was done in the safety of the sunlight, and Hux only retreated inside from noon until two, when the heat was too much. He spent those two hours in the cool kitchen, prepping meals and going over his plans for the next day, or making appointments for repairs and renovations. 

After two, he went right outside to finish working, and once the sun was close to nestling behind the trees, Hux went right back inside for the night. He had his dinner, took a shower- or a long bath, now that his tub and plumbing was repaired- then tucked into bed, and was asleep before ten pm. 

Every night, as soon as he curled under the blankets, the howling would begin. 

The first night, after his wards were set, he’d looked outside when the howling started. At the edges of the boundary he’d drawn with the railroad spikes, stood the monster, bigger than his car, white skull gleaming- even in a new moon’s lack of light- and blood clot eyes glowing, fixed on his window. 

Seeing his prey at the window, the hellhound threw back his antlered head and _screamed._ It was the first time Hux had heard the sound, and he came close to pissing himself for the second time in a month. 

The sound was that first wail he'd had made after Hux had slashed him, but it was also that clicking, hissing, bellowing and rumbling roar he’d made when trying to lure Hux outside- and then tried to get into the house when his prey had proven immovable. 

As the skeletal jaws parted to issue the unearthly call, the fur of the beast’s neck rippled, and his breath came out in billowing clouds of steam in the late summer night air, visible even from the distance separating them. 

The howling went on for nearly ten minutes before he lowered his head and locked gazes with Hux once more. He pawed the ground, raking furrows in the dirt, and let out a snort that sounded awfully equine- but deeper, and louder as it issued from a fleshless nasal cavity. 

“ _Come out and talk, Seeebaaasssssstiaaan,”_ he called. _“We can talk, can we not? Stay behind your line of rust and poison if you must, but come. Come to me, Sebaaasssstiaaaan. Come and taaaaaallllk with meeee.”_

Hux had shot his middle finger at the hellbeast in his yard, then dropped the blinds and shut the curtains. 

The monster began howling again- and would howl, coax, whine, cajole and bargain every night after that. If Hux wasn’t going to come to him, he wasn’t going to get sleep- not if he could help it. Hux learned even noise cancelling earbuds wouldn’t shut out the monster’s wailing. 

If his curse was to be unable to sleep without the caterwauling of a hellhound kept at bay, he could live with that. As long as he didn’t have a repeat of that awful night, with the massive skull staring at him through the broken window and drooling on his floor. 

It would be strained, but Hux was confident he could make this work, and believed he had seen the worst it could do. 

He was so very ignorant- and so very, very wrong. 

* * *

Hux sped up his timetable on getting the stables renovated. He hired workers recommended by Maz’s network to move things along- though not all of the hired help were “one of them,” and were ignorant of the situation, save for the stories they knew as locals. 

Hux worried about this fact, and made sure to be around them at all times to keep the creature away from them. Wards or not, daylight or not, the stables edged a little too close to the slaughterhouse for his liking. 

Despite his constant presence disguised as the discerning client, the workers still saw claw marks in the dirt, and felt the chill of something watching them. They also noticed the lack of animal sounds, and commented on the temperature, the absence of mosquitoes in the late summer heat. Those who knew better said nothing- because they knew better.

The work went fast, and Hux learned new things as he helped out with what he could. He got some raised eyebrows from a few workers when he halted work to sprinkle salt here, or stab a rusty spike into a corner there, but the inside workers shrugged and said “Appalachian superstition,” which earned nods and expressions of accepting revelation- of course.

Folks in the Appalachians had odd superstitions, but most of it was founded on the Bible and the odd Pentecostal branch of those regions, so fellow Christian men understood, even if they didn’t believe. 

It was the last day of construction and renovation that Hux made the mistake of letting his guard down. His wards had spread, and it was almost noon, bright as it was going to get. He’d gone inside to get drinks for everyone; the night before, he’d made spiked lemonade for the workers- squeezed and mixed himself, with just enough vodka to give it a bite, and slices of lemon and strawberries floating among the ice cubes. 

He hummed as he got down half a dozen plastic cups and pulled the chilled pitcher from the fridge, and he noticed it had gotten dark outside. Storm clouds had popped up in the unpredictable end of the summer, and the heavy clouds had covered the sun. 

Hux only had a moment to process this before the screaming began.

He dropped the pitcher, ignoring the glass shattering in the sink and lemonade splattering over the counter and floor as he bolted outside, his pulse pounding in his ears. 

There was shouting, screaming, swearing. A hissing growl followed as Hux rounded the corner of the house and ran across the grass to the stables. Even from where he was, he could see the bright arterial blood soaking the grass where the man sprawled, clutching at his belly. 

Hux felt his gorge rise as he fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, his eyes fixed on the man’s torso. He cursed himself, cursed the creature, cursed everything as he frantically dialled 911. The acid rose in his throat and as the dispatcher asked him what his emergency was, he vomited into the grass. 

_My fault, this is my fault, all my fault, this is all. My. Fault._

The man had been gored like an unfortunate hunter at a boar hunt who’d fallen from his horse to be gouged and impaled by the furious prey he’d sought to kill. His belly was ripped open from side to side in a long gaping cut through which his entrails spilled, pink and red, purple and an iridescent blue sheen of fascia. The wet pink ropes of viscera slipped through the panicked man’s blood-soaked fingers, each loop trembling with every panicked scream he made. 

“Sir, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked urgently, sounding a bit more concerned now that she heard the screams. Hux wiped his mouth, gasping for air, his mouth and throat burning from his stomach acid. 

“I- I don’t know, one of the men working on my property… his, his stomach is ripped open, his intestines are spilling out, we need a bus here, NOW!”

His military training was coming back, his cool composure reasserting itself as his background kicked into gear. 

“Get those contained,” he barked at the men. “Wrap some cloth around his stomach to hold those in!”

He turned his attention back to the phone.

“I’m at the Woodhaven Dairy, Highway Nine, across the highway from the Fish River Tree Farm,” he told the dispatcher. “I don’t know how, but one of the workers at my property had his stomach sliced open, his intestines have been exposed. I’m having one of the men bind him with cloth to keep his entrails contained, but he’ll likely go into shock soon.”

If the dispatcher was surprised at his sudden change in demeanour, she made no comment, only confirming that there was an ambulance already at the volunteer fire department located at the intersection of Nine and Thirty-two, and that it would be there in less than three minutes. She walked him through keeping the man calm, and keeping the entrails from being squeezed too hard and causing more damage. No sooner did they have him wrapped up, did the ambulance come tearing into the yard. 

A squad of men and women burst from the bus, a gurney unfolding, packs being pulled out, IV’s being prepped, and the yard turned into a buzzing hive of frenzied activity. 

“You the one who called it in?”

Hux turned to face a tanned man about his age with dark wavy hair. He inclined his head. 

“I am. I’m the property owner, Sebastian Hux.”

“I’m the driver, Poe Dameron. You mind telling me what happened so I can radio it in on the way to Thomas?” he asked. His voice was calm, easy going and likeable. Hux had the feeling, just from hearing his speak, that this man got himself into a lot of trouble with that voice.

“I honestly don’t know,” Hux lied. “I was making lemonade for us all when I heard the screams, and ran outside to find him nearly gutted.”

“It was the Hellhound,” one of the workers said- Snap, if Hux recalled the man’s introduction correctly. A nickname.

Poe blinked. 

“Hellhound?”

“Look, you know the rumours about this place,” Snap said, his round face pale under his beard. “We were setting in the final touches to the doors for the stalls, and we hear this growl as soon as Hux went inside. We turn around, and there’s just… a blur of black, and next thing we know, John is on his back, his belly is slashed open and there’s this THING on him.”

He wiped the sweat off his face, and Hux could see flecks of blood in his beard. 

“Hux comes running out, and the thing runs away like it’s been scalded with hot water, and there’s just John, screaming and trying to keep his guts in his belly.”

“Sir, do you have a dog?” Poe asked, frowning. Hux scowled.

“No, I do not. I have a horse, for whom I was having these stables renovated,” he replied. 

Poe jerked his chin behind Hux.

“Then, whose dog is that?”

Hux spun on his heel to see a large black dog sitting at the edge of the yard in a patch of sunshine. It yawned widely, its pink maw and white teeth flashing in the black face.

" _That_ ," Hux snarled, "Is a mangy stray that keeps coming back and shitting on my property. I'm about to call animal control to take care of it."

Hux stooped, grabbed a rock, and hurled it at the dog. It hit home on the canine’s flank, and it yelped, baring its teeth before fleeing into the underbrush. Hux knew animal control would only be slaughtered by that creature- and that the beast would likely retaliate for the stone and the blustering.

“That wasn’t it,” Snap said. “No way a dog could do that. This thing was the size of a horse… or bigger.” 

“Were you all properly hydrated? Out of the sun? Were you working with any equipment that might have fallen and done this?” Poe persisted. Clearly, he didn’t want to think about anything supernatural- not that Hux could blame him. His superiors would want him to take time off. 

Another young man came up to Poe, wiping sweat from his dark-skinned face. 

“We’re all good, we have him set up. Play inquisitor later, Poe- he’s in bad shape. He’s stable, but we gotta get him to the OR or he’ll go septic quick,” he said hurriedly. 

“Alright, Finn,” Poe said. He shot Hux a look. 

“Look, the police will be coming to do a report. Might wanna get your story together.”

His tone held no suspicion, no threat- only the guarded advice of someone concerned for the well-being of everyone involved in the accident. Then Hux saw the look in his eyes- and his memory jarred. Poe Dameron. They'd graduated high school together.

_No. He knows. He knows me- or who I pretended to be._

Poe was showing concern for someone who would not be treated well, fairly or respectfully by the cops if Hux didn't have his ducks in a row. Hux felt a wave of appreciation for the unspoken warning, and he nodded at Poe. Poe nodded back, then ran for the bus and got in. A moment later, the sirens wailed and the lights flashed as the ambulance kicked up dust and shot out of the driveway onto Highway Nine. 

“Take your men and go home. I’ll finish the rest,” Hux said softly to Snap once the sirens had faded into the distance. “I’ll see to it you’re well paid. It was an accident. Someone decided to poke around the old slaughterhouse, and the old equipment was just a disaster waiting to happen, that’s all. Tripped, fell on some old equipment.”

Snap looked doubtful, but Hux reached into his pocket and pulled out his checkbook. He scribbled an amount onto the newest check, then, meeting Snap’s eyes, wrote the man’s name on the “Pay to the Order of” line. He pulled the check free and held it out so Snap could see the amount. 

“It was an accident,” he repeated. “The check is for the extra hard work of you and your co-workers today and their hardships of the accident. I will also cover the medical costs if his insurance and workman’s comp does not.”

Snap nodded and took the check, looking more dazed at the amount than the events of the day. 

“You’re right,” he finally said after pocketing the check. “No one would believe any of us, anyway. It’s like John to fuck around and get hurt.”

“Thank you,” Hux said genuinely. 

The last thing he needed was hysteria over this. It would only end in more people injured- he couldn’t be sure his wards protected everyone. In fact, the whole incident had him worried that they only applied to him, since he’d been the one to place them. 

“I’ll see you all to the road,” he said- he’d made the men park their truck near the road to protect them and their equipment, in case the monster was the sabotaging type. 

Snap showed the other two men the check, and they shot wide eyed, but grateful looks at Hux before heading to the truck, Hux trailing behind them. 

They all tried to ignore the black dog following them, barely concealed in the underbrush. 

* * *

  
  


Millicent snorted and stamped a hoof as Hux reigned her to a stop. She tossed her head, eager to break into a gallop again. Hux patted her neck before wiping sweat off his forehead. It was September, but the oppressive Alabama heat persisted- he knew it wouldn’t release the land until deep into November. 

“Enjoying the ride, then?” he asked his mare, who flicked an ear back at him before whickering and stamping her hoof again. She’d been boarded too long and wanted to run. Hux nudged her flanks with his heels, and she bolted across the field giddily, a blur of sorrel. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he said, barely heard over the thundering of hooves and the wind in his ears as he leaned into her, moving his hips with her smooth, effortless pace and riding light on her back. Truth was, he was happy, too. He’d missed his rides with the spunky mare. 

He let Millicent take her own direction, which was a wide circle around the pasture that turned into a bean shape, curving back in when she got closer to the house. She slowed around that area, picking her way carefully, ears swivelling in every direction, her steps high and deliberate so that each hoof made a statement as it came down. 

It wasn’t from Hux coaxing a high step- he didn’t believe in soring, and Millicent had never had the cruel treatment given to her to encourage the flashy movement. He’d purchased Milly because he preferred the smooth gait of the Tennessee Walking Horse, not because he intended to take her to shows. 

Milly was taking exaggerated steps because she was being careful- and was nervous. 

She did not like being near the slaughterhouse. It’d taken quite some coaxing to get her past it and to the stables to house her. Once she’d crossed the threshold, however, stepping over the wards, she’d calmed immediately, and Hux released her reins to let her pick which of the three stalls she wanted. She’d picked the stall closest to a buried silver amulet- which also happened to be the furthest from the slaughterhouse. 

The fact that the amulet’s presence calmed Millicent, and that she knew she was safe near it only further convinced Hux his wards were working. As it was, he never took the cross off. Millicent had nosed his chest when he’d come to get her for a ride, and she nickered softly as he mounted up, giving no protest. She felt safe, so he did, too. 

However, he noticed, brought out of his thoughts, that Milly had stopped. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, patting the side of her neck again. Her ears flattened back, and she made a nervous sound, dancing a little in place on skittish hooves. She bobbed her head, clearly unhappy. 

Hux tried to get her to move, to go in another direction, but she was having none of it. He sighed and moved to dismount to see what had her so nervous, but she shifted again, making a hoarse protest in her throat. She didn’t want him to get off. There was danger and she was frustrated that she couldn’t convey to him where- or what- it was. 

Hux sighed and wheeled her around to head back- and he saw what had caught his horse’s attention. 

A gleam of white, red, and pink in the grass.

Hux could see just enough from where he was that the curved shape, the wet gleam, and the colours all pointed to a ribcage and ragged remnants of flesh. He could just see the side of the spine that trailed behind the broken and exposed ribs, and even from this distance, he could see the distinct _lack_ of flies that should have been buzzing over the remains like a cloud. 

Millicent made another hoarse sound, plaintive and urgent, and Hux gave her slack on the reins. She immediately booked it for the stables, her desire to run in the field gone thanks to the grisly discovery. Just as well, as the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon. 

Hux doubted she’d want to go out for another ride soon, and he swore under his breath. The wards should have kept him out. So how did he manage to drop that carcass over there?

He settled Milly in for the night, removing her tack and giving her a good long brushdown, murmuring soothing words to her the entire time and adding a liberal amount of extra goodies to her supper. Milly dug in with relish, her long, freshly combed tail swishing contentedly while she ate. 

“You sleep well, princess,” he said to her, rubbing her nose and kissing her forehead before leaving her to her dinner. He left the stables, securing the doors before heading for the house.

Where he found another shredded, ripped and unidentifiable carcass. 

The spine, pelvis and hind legs of another animal- thankfully, an animal- had been dumped just in front of the kitchen stoop. He’d almost have assumed it was the other half of the thing in the field, but the spine was intact. Again, it was inside the wards. 

If the monster hadn’t tried to get at him with fang and claw, Hux would have almost assumed it was trying to share its meals with him. It had, however, and this wasn’t sharing. This was a threat, or perhaps harassment. 

_If I can’t get to you, I will show you what I can do to you until I learn how,_ was what Hux was getting from this. He wasn’t looking forward to cleaning this one up later. Later, because he’d be damned if he was cleaning it up now. He stepped over it and onto the steps to go inside. 

“Don't you like my gifts?”

Hux turned to see the monster, wearing his person-suit, standing a few paces away at the edge of the ward line. His full lips were curved in a cruel smile, and his black eyes were glittering. His arms were folded across his chest under his coat, which hung on his shoulders. 

“Not particularly, no,” Hux said dryly. “If you wish to court me, Grump, I’d prefer brandy and Djarums, not mutilated corpses.”

“I’m not courting you, and I have a name, and it isn’t Grump,” said the creature.

“Well, you haven’t given me the civilised greeting by way of introducing yourself, so until then, you are Grump.”

A muscle ticked in the monster’s cheek as Hux turned to go back inside.

“My name is not Grump,” he said. “My name is Kylorenivsarterissæ.”

Hux looked at the thing in his yard, blinking. 

“That,” he said, “is a mouthful.”

“I am a creature of the underworld, you expect me to have a mundane name like a mortal?” the monster countered.

“Yeah, if you expect me to call you that and pronounce it correctly, you’re wrong.”

Fangs glittered between the full lips, and Hux sighed, fully expecting to spend yet another night of the thing howling and pacing in his yard.

“My mortal tongue can’t say your name,” he said. “I’ll call you Kylo. How’s that?”

The head tilted, waves of black hair falling over the long, expressive face, and the fangs disappeared behind the plush lips once again. He was considering it. They held gazes, green on black, mortal on demon. 

“It is better than Grump, so it will suffice,” he said, and disappeared into the lengthening shadows of the evening, leaving Hux to blink after him. 

“Wait!” Hux called. “How did you get these damned corpses over the wards?”

“I threw them. I thought that should have been obvious. Idiot,” Kylo called back. Even though Hux couldn’t see him, he knew the demon was sneering at him. 

“Good night to you, too. Asshole,” he muttered, and headed inside. 

There was yet another deluge of voicemails on his phone. One from the EMT driver- checking to see if everything was okay. One from Mitaka- making sure everything was being settled well. Another from Maz- a demand he come see her for tea soon and an update on Milly. The last was a call from a woman named Phasma- asking when he was coming in to take over the family business. 

Hux groaned softly. The family business. 

Woodhaven Dairy was no longer a dairy, save for in name. A few generations ago, the Hux family had decided that a more lucrative business was a funeral home. Family owned, family run funeral homes were a morbid, but well paying expenditure in the South. People tended to trust those owned by families- the longer, the better. Especially if independently owned.

It meant their family would be treated with respect and personal touches as expected from a locally owned funeral home. Big names did rubber stamping and cold handling of their dead, and that was unacceptable in small micropolitans like Silverhill, Point Clear and Fairhope. 

It was the business Hux had inherited from his father. He would be expected to run it, and he’d dreaded coming back for this. He’d joined the military to get away from the expectations of family, to get out of Alabama, and to save money for his transition. He’d spent the past eight years in the reserves, quietly doing his transition, suffering through being mistaken for a very butch lesbian, collecting his paychecks and sticking them in the bank until his contract ended when he’d get his top surgery.

Coming out, getting his surgery, and going by masculine pronouns and names would have cost him everything he'd worked for. So he'd endured until he could get his surgery- even though he did start his hormones when he went from active duty to reserves. It took a few years for his face, his body to masculinise, so he got away with it- it wasn't until the last year of reserves did people start figuring out what was going on, and his unit were close knit enough that no one reported him.

This past year he’d spent recovering from his liberating surgery, building muscle, and just spending his time untethered and exploring his life as a new man, and had loved every moment of it- and then his father had to go and die like the nuisance he was, leaving him with the cursed land, the funeral home, and the monster. 

“Just like you, to dump all this on me and trap me, you bigoted old bastard,” Hux swore to himself, ignoring all the voicemails- but wondering how Poe had gotten his number. Likely going through the call records after he’d been called for more details on the accident. 

He tried not to think about the EMT’s handsome, easy going face. He’d been very easy on the eyes, almost as handsome as the man-skin the monster wore. He hadn’t missed the ring on the man’s left ring finger, however, and pushed the younger man’s face from his mind. 

Nothing turned him off quite like matrimony and all the bonds that came with it- and all the potential messes that could happen from even thinking about approaching someone entangled in those bonds. 

Never mind the fact that Poe had known him before his transition- and remembered, and recognised him. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Hux puttered around the kitchen, making himself dinner- a light meal of Caesar salad with chicken, some garlic bread and a glass of white wine. After dinner, he indulged in a long soak in the claw-footed tub with a book, then tucked into bed with three fingers of brandy and a vanilla Djarum. 

As expected, just as he had put out the stub of his clove and turned out the lights, Hux heard the thump on the roof. Claws and hooves skittered across the tin roof, and Hux glared upwards at the ceiling. It was wildly irritating that his wards did not apply to the roof- yet. 

He’d ask Maz about making hot foot powder and apply it _liberally_ to the roof- and hopefully, the next time the four legged beastie set foot on the tin roof, he’d make a lot more noise trying to get off it. 

“Give it a rest, already,” he said loudly as he took off his robe, hanging it up before sliding naked into bed, save for the cross that rested against his chest. 

The skittering paused, then moved to settle right over Hux’s bed. He scowled as he saw the tip of the long, furry tail swishing outside the window by his bed, and he was tempted to open it and give the tail a good, hard YANK. 

Not a good idea- he still had no idea if that would be considered an invitation to come inside. The mental image of the monster yelping in surprise and pain- even possibly falling off the roof- was amusing, however. Hux entertained the idea in his head, imagining various outcomes until he fell asleep, the monster- Kylo- still perched on the roof above him. 

Kylo was oddly silent that night.

* * *

  
  
  


“So you actually met him?” Rey asked, her eyes wide as she practically bounced on the balls of her feet. “The Woodhaven owner?”

Poe nodded before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Got called out to his place a few days ago.”

“And you’re only telling me this _now_ **_because?_ **” Rey asked in disbelief. 

“Because he’s not who I thought would be there, and he’s dealing with enough as it is, without curious thrill seekers, Rey,” Poe replied, his expression serious. “I mean it. He hired help to renovate his stables and one of the men was partially disemboweled.”

Rey’s expression was not that of horror as he’d expected, but _excitement._

“Disemboweled? How?” She breathed. Poe sighed.

“Curiosity,” he said. “Worker poked in the old slaughterhouse, tripped over some crumbling brick and fell onto some old equipment. Nothing supernatural or odd, just clumsy feet and bad luck.”

Rey wilted a little. 

“So he said nothing about the place being haunted?” she asked. Poe laughed.

“Finn and I were a little busy getting the guy to Thomas before he went septic, Rey.”

Finn, as if on cue, came out of the bathroom in a towel, drying his head off with a second. 

“You asking about the disemboweled patient? It was bad luck, Rey. You take the local legends too seriously, babe.”

“You guys are no fun,” she huffed. She ducked in and smooched each of their cheeks, stole a sip of coffee from Poe’s mug, a bite of his bagel, then waved goodbye to both of them as she dodged around a bouncing BB8 to head to work. Poe shook his head. 

“So we’re still in agreement- we don’t tell her that one of the men said it was a hellhound or a monster or whatever?” Finn asked, watching through the window as she pulled out in her car. 

“Right. Haunted or not, we leave Hux alone.”

Finn lifted a brow. 

“You act like you don’t want Rey getting close to him,” he commented. 

“Not that,” Poe replied, spreading strawberry cream cheese on his bagel- the half Rey hadn’t taken a bite out of.

“But I remember the Hux kid from high school, and Hux wasn’t called Sebastian then, but Elizabeth. Now I know why Hux was so miserable in high school- he was forced to live as a girl when he never was.”

Finn nodded, understanding.

“Being trans in a place like this won’t be easy. Sure hasn’t been easy for us as a multiracial poly triad,” he said. 

Finn left it unsaid that their status as being polyamorous was only known by a select few, and as far as anyone knew, Finn and Rey were the ones engaged, and Poe was the “determined bachelor,” who lived to flirt with everyone- not that that did him any favours. 

“Exactly. So we leave him alone and don’t drag unwanted attention to him. If we meet him in town, fine- hell, maybe he could use some friends that aren’t cishet, you know? But for now, we should stay away from his home until he’s ‘debuted’ in town, for lack of better word,” Poe confirmed. 

Finn nodded again and padded into the bedroom to get dressed- they were working the afternoon shift again, and were still technically on call. Poe gave Finn’s toned back an appreciative gaze before his partner disappeared into the bedroom, then turned to look at the pomeranian at his feet.

“You hungry, buddy?”

An affirmative bark was his response, and Poe smiled, getting up and avoiding the now excitedly bouncing and spinning dog. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “Come on, buddy, let’s get you some kibble.”

* * *

  
  


Hux pulled up into the parking space labelled “Owner” and cut off the engine. He sighed, not looking forward to the events of the day. Coming out and taking control of the funeral home was just a different form of “debuting” in this town, and everyone would know within a few day’s time that the heir of Woodhaven was not the person they’d expected to come home. 

He steeled himself and exited the car, locking the doors. He strolled up the ramp and went inside. The blast of AC that hit him was frigid, and smelled of death- of funerary flowers, potpourri, the wax of the coffins, and under it all, the chemical stink of the morgue at the very back of the building. 

“Ah, there you are, at last.”

The woman that came striding towards him was incredibly tall, built like a tank, and cut an imposing figure in her light grey pantsuit. Her short platinum blonde hair was impeccably cut and shone in the lights, her crimson red lipstick a bright stain on her wide cupid’s bow lips. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled with intelligence and fire, and Hux liked her immediately. She was all business and to the point as she held out a hand and shook his firmly, letting it go after one shake.

“I am your assistant director, Phasma Steele,” she said. “I am glad to finally meet you, Mister Hux.”

“Thank you- and just Hux will do,” Hux said, feeling a bit underdressed compared to Phasma, even though he wore a black suit with a dark charcoal grey shirt and black tie. Phasma was the kind of woman who had herself pressed, glossed and primped to the nines and practically glittered with resolve. They were going to get along well, he suspected. 

“You’ve met Dopheld, of course,” she said, leading him back to the mortuary. “I’ll introduce you to the mortician.”

She passed through the door, holding it open for him with a well manicured hand- her nails were painted blood red, and they shone with a gel coat that made them look like fresh blood.The way she stood, carried herself-

“You’re a Marine, aren’t you?”

She looked at him over her shoulder, pleased. After all, there was no such thing as a “Former Marine.”

“I am, yes. Saw three tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan, figured out the war was pointless, and came home to settle in with Maetra. Speaking of….”

A short, dark skinned woman with wavy black hair pulled back into a tail was at the desk in the back of the morgue. She wore a black skirt suit which was pinstriped with lavender, and a matching lavender shirt. Over it, she wore a lab coat, and a pen was stuck behind her ear. Her glasses rested on top of her head. She turned to face the other two, and her makeup was dramatically done with smoky eyes, dark burgundy lipstick and contouring that made her face glow like an Egyptian goddess. 

“Maetra, this is the Director, Sebastian Hux. Hux, this is Maetra Steele, our mortician- and my wife,” Phasma said brightly, her eyes practically glowing with pride. 

Maetra stood and Hux saw she was short, but well toned and curved. Her amber eyes studied him, and she nodded in what seemed to be approval. 

“Hux. Another military die hard, then?” she asked as she shook his hand. Hux chuckled.

“Former Navy,” he said. “Not very die hard, no.”

“Good,” she chirped. “Phasma is hard core enough as it is, you’ll be a good middle ground between us.”

Hux liked her, too. He liked people who were no-nonsense and straight to the point. 

“We don’t have any work at the moment, which is a good thing,” she said. “I assume you know the building well enough?”

Hux nodded, and Phasma motioned to the door before blowing a kiss to Maetra, who feigned swooning as she clasped it to her chest. Hux smiled. They were cute. 

“I'll show you to your office. There's a lot of paperwork to get done.”

“Lovely,” Hux groaned good naturedly. 

“So what does the esteemed director do on his time off?” Phasma asked as they walked down the hall. 

“Care for my horse Millicent. Go riding. Read,” he replied. Phasma sniffed. 

“You should get out more. I own The Pub downtown on Fairhope Avenue. Come on by and I'll give you drinks on the house. What's your poison?”

“Brandy,” Hux replied with a smile. 

“I'm a gin and tonic kind of girl, but I appreciate a good aged brandy, too, so good choice. I also make a damned good Old Fashioned if that's to your taste.”

“I'd like that,” Hux said, warming up to Phasma the more she spoke. 

“And here's your office, oh esteemed director,” Phasma said with a mock bow and flourish. “Complete with a stack of paperwork to do!” 

Hux groaned again and settled into his seat. 

“Thanks, Phasma,” he said. “I'll get to it.”

He picked up his pen and lost himself to the repetitive monotony of forms and bureaucracy. It was good to distract himself from the monster at home. He was starting to feel less resistance to the idea of working again. It would give some relief from the horror that waited for him back at the property. 

After all, working a funeral home in a small town should be a quiet affair, shouldn't it? 


	5. Bad Books, Blood and Beasts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux hits some social snags trying to get the family business open again, and finally delves into the family's history.
> 
> Kylo is a very, very bad hellpuppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for transphobia and mentions of past bullying causing suicidal ideation.

Work was, for the most part, boring, dry and uneventful. Which was just as Hux expected. Paperwork occupied most of his day- authorisations, obituaries, death certificates. Though it was expected of most funeral directors to also be the mortician and undertaker, Hux was not. He had no training in preparing the dead for interment. 

That was why he had Maetra. 

It was a good set up they had at the funeral home- Hux was the proprietor, handling the majority of the legal paperwork. Dopheld was the in-house lawyer, who often worked for the family of the deceased at a discount when the family used the funeral home for final rites and burial- he handled final wills and testaments, estates, and other legal issues that arose after one passed away.

Maetra was the mortician, but she was also a trained and degree holding pathologist. She could lay the dead to rest, or open them up and tell, with little margin of error, how they died. She rarely had to do autopsies for cause of death in such a small town, though. 

Hux had asked her why she’d decided to settle in the small micropolitan area, giving up a far more lavish salary and lifestyle that she could have had in a bigger area- even working in a small port city like Mobile, which actually had murder cases. She’d looked pointedly at Phasma. 

“She’s happier here. When she’s happy, money doesn’t matter. This is a good job, and we’re happy.”

Phasma handled the harder stuff, as only a Marine could. 

She was capable of lifting caskets with only minimal assistance, was able to bodily remove violent patrons, and was licensed to drive at least three different types of commercial vehicles- hearses included. She often was the cold, indifferent intervenor when family drama came to a boil thanks to the added heat of a family death. 

Hux had hired them all, as his family was no longer holding the company- it was just himself. He knew Dopheld from school, and knew him to be an open-minded, level-headed man. Dopheld being only recently out of the closet to a select few didn’t hurt, either.

Phasma had come recommended by Dopheld, as well as Maetra. After meeting them via video call, he’d hired them on the spot, and told them he’d be back in Baldwin County soon enough, and they could get settled in when they were ready- he’d open the funeral home himself when he was ready to. 

All four of them had a mutual trust based on their shared status of social pariahs- all of them transgender or not heterosexual. It would be good to have a safe working network between them. 

It was Phasma, however, that acted as protector to all of them- and she proved to be an efficient one the very first day they worked together. 

* * *

Hux sighed and set aside all the paperwork he’d finished- signing off on the utility bills, licenses for Stericycle to add them to their pick-up routes, certifications and licenses for proper chemical and bio-hazardous material storage and disposal, OSHA compliances, the list went on and on. 

The last thing that needed to be done was renewing the registration for the hearses. The funeral home owned two- one black, one white, to satisfy the needs of various religious and personal beliefs. Both were 2010 Cadillac Statesman Hearses, in excellent condition with low mileage. 

They both were a decade old, but Hux doubted he’d need to replace them for another ten years or more- and was loathe to do so. They had a classic, almost iconic look compared to the more streamlined curves of modern models, and folks in small towns clung to tradition- they’d not be keen on the last ride of their loved ones being alien and unfamiliar. 

It was one of the reasons his funeral home would be chosen over the new one that had opened during his hiatus- his competitor had newer, sleeker and oddly curved models that looked more like stretched sedans with a flat top- and open windows in the back that lent to less privacy in the back for the deceased. 

Death was a revered, respected thing in the South, and the final ride from funeral home to graveyard was something that everyone held in sombre regard- it was common practise to see cars pull over completely when encountering a funeral procession. Turning off lights, radios and sometimes, even putting them in park and turning off the engine until the procession passed- often with a police escort- was a sign of respect for the dead. 

Traditions in the Deep South weren’t broken easily- if at all- when it came to death. 

Which is why Hux and Phasma were driving the hearses to the DMV to renew their registration- and get the fluids in their engines running. 

Naturally, everyone turned their heads when they saw the hearses pull up, and the rumour mill started. Everyone knew those Cadillac hearses, to whom they belonged. The whispering in the waiting room turned to a low buzz as Hux got out of the black hearse and the sunlight caught his hair in a blaze of red. 

Hux sighed as he saw from where he stood that many pairs of eyes were already upon him. Phasma got out of the white hearse and locked the door. Hux felt a momentary stab of amusement as he saw their reflections on the window- he in his black three piece suit by the black hearse, Phasma in her silver-grey pant-suit by the white hearse. 

“Death and Conquest,” he remarked blithely. Phasma, getting the joke immediately, laughed. 

“Does that make Maetra Famine and Dopheld War?” she asked. Hux chuckled.

“Dopheld is the furthest from War, but he certainly does end them with his field of practise,” he conceded. 

“Let’s get this over with- I have to change my Phantom’s tags back to Alabama, too. Might be here a while.”

Phasma gave him a stern look.

“If they give you shit, let me know if you need back up,” she said evenly. He gave her a smile. 

“Thanks, Phasma. I appreciate it.”

They strode inside and were hit with a rush of ice cold air and the buzz of conversation, all eyes on them both as the doors closed behind them. Hux squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and moved to take a number from the commercial line- which was blessedly short. Most of the people waiting were renewing personal tags, or waiting to have their teenagers take their driving exams. 

He moved towards an empty chair in a row with plenty of empty seats around it- but the number display showed his ticket. There were no commercial tags being done this afternoon, it seemed. 

Relieved he wouldn’t have to sit and be stared at, he made an abrupt left face on toe and heel and strode towards the counter. Phasma followed right behind him, heels clicking on the floor- she was his CDL driver, after all. 

His relief was short-lived as he saw who was behind the counter.

“Name?” Codi Lowall asked, her tone curious- she hadn’t seen him pull up in the hearse, so she didn’t know he was the new owner of the Woodhaven Funeral Home. 

Codi Lowall had been one of the more popular girls in high school in his graduating class, and she- along with her best friend, Emileigh Lee- had bullied him in school and in church nearly to the point of suicide- and resulted in therapy that ignored the true cause of his mental anguish.

Now, she stared at him blankly, waiting for his name and tag to be renewed. No recognition flared in her eyes, and Hux couldn’t help but take some satisfaction from seeing her appearance. 

She was dull, tired, and underweight. She looked like a woman who smoked a pack a day, slept four hours or less a night, and put away a bottle of vodka every week- but covered it up almost perfectly with make-up. Her blue eyes had bags under them that were barely visible under the foundation, and her blonde hair was in a ponytail that hung lankly. She clearly no longer had time or energy to curl it into the ringlets she'd sworn were natural in high school.

Considering half of her abuse had focused on his appearance and refusal to wear cosmetics or anything feminine, Hux was oddly amused and satisfied that her own adherence to femininity was what was hiding her own flaws and the fact that she was no longer a Queen Bee, but a local government drone. 

“Sebastian Hux. Here to renew two commercial tags and one personal tag,” he said coolly. 

Surprise flared in her eyes, which quickly narrowed as they took in the face before her, staring, trying to figure it out. It took her a moment to peel her eyes away and actually look at the registration cards, proof of insurance, and license that Hux passed across the counter to her. She read the license silently, chapped lips mouthing the name.

Thankfully, his license was still a Maryland license- he’d change that later. He still had two weeks, and he wasn’t going to wait in line again- and give his address, which would announce to everyone who he was without having them see his face. 

“What company and registration type?” she asked, still frowning, still trying to get her mind’s gears to click. Was it possible she thought he was a cousin?

“Woodhaven Funeral Home- two hearses, 2010 Cadillac Statesman model,” Hux replied. 

More recognition. 

“Woodhaven- we heard the Hux family came back to open the funeral home again and were making renovations on the old place,” she commented, her tone prying. “Heard that Brendol had died.” 

“Yes, and someone had to keep the business running. It’s important to the folks in the area, and has been for generations, so I need to renew the tags on the hearses,” he replied impatiently. 

“So are you a cousin, then?” she asked. Ah, so she did think him a cousin. 

“I’m a Hux, that’s all that matters,” he replied. “I’d like to renew the tags. Please.” 

“I can only renew the hearses- personal tags are done in a separate line if you want to switch from another state,” she said, irritated he wasn’t going to give her information with which to gossip. 

“Fine,” Hux said, irritation growing as he waved dismissively.

“And I’ll need the CDL of the driver.”

Phasma flicked her wrist and sent the license skidding across the counter without a word. Codi caught it, scowled, and began typing furiously into the computer. As she did, another worker- a round faced woman with a short dark bob of hair Hux didn’t recognise- came up behind Codi and stared pointedly at Hux. 

Hux ignored her stare, looking at the back of the monitor as though he might see what Codi was typing through it. Phasma drummed immaculate red nails on the counter lazily, fixing her steely blue eyes on the newcomer pointedly. The woman continued staring at Hux, undeterred by Phasma’s gaze, determined to get Hux’s attention by directly staring at him. 

All the while, her jaws worked up and down on a wad of bright green gum, her breath reeking of cigarette smoke and spearmint. 

“You’re a relative of the Hux kid,” she finally said. Hux flicked his eyes at her, barely acknowledging her, then back to the monitor’s plastic backing. 

“Brendol’s girl. Elisabeth,” she continued, her jaws smacking around the wad of gum. “Thought she was Brendol’s only kid.”

“You thought wrong,” Hux said, his voice dangerously low. 

“Didn’t go to school with another Hux,” Codi put in. “Only Elisabeth. She didn’t have a brother as far as I knew.”

They were both staring at him now, shrewd Southern eyes. Despite himself, Hux felt a cold sweat break out over his shoulders and back, his skin crawling with the beginnings of panic. He saw them looking at his face- Codi comparing it to a face she knew over a decade ago…

“You’re Elisabeth,” she said quietly, realisation dawning on her face. “Holy shit, _you’re Elisabeth._ ”

Hux was frozen. The other woman was staring- still smacking her gum- and the people nearby were starting to look over at him more closely, straining to hear what was going on. Panic was building in his chest, tightening his ribs and restricting his breathing. 

He reached out for the registration cards and Phasma’s license, determined to leave, to have Dopheld do this another day, to be anywhere but here with people staring at him and deciding he was someone that had never been him, had never been anything but a curse. 

“The license, insurance, and registration says Sebastian,” Phasma snapped. “Or can you not read? I thought literacy was part of needing any job- even in the South. Do your job, or get us someone who can do something as menial as data entry.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Codi asked, turning her attention to Phasma as if seeing her for the first time, her expression and tone indignant.

“You heard me,” Phasma shot back. “We’re not here to provide gossip material for the alcoholic meetings with your friends you disguise as book clubs. Do your job or get me a superior- both in rank and mental capacity.”

She turned her sharp gaze to the other woman. 

“And spit out your gum while you’re working, it’s unprofessional. You look and sound like a cow with your slack smacking jaws and blank stupid stare. Maybe you should go do your job, too.”

The round faced woman nearly choked on her gum and scurried away, coughing violently. Codi was typing furiously on the keyboard, but her small eyes were narrowed, glancing up at him every few moments with cold venom. All the while, Phasma glowered, and Hux tried to regain his composure. 

A few moments later, the old printer made a screeching sound as it printed out the renewed registration for the hearses, and Codi tore it off, along with two stickers with ‘2021’ on them. She all but tossed them across the counter at Hux, and Phasma snatched them- along with the license that was flung at her. 

“Right. Thank you, data cow,” Phasma snapped. 

Codi levelled a glare at Hux.

“Welcome back, _Elisabeth,_ ” she sneered. 

Phasma loomed over the counter. 

“Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll see you at _our_ place of work.”

Subtly, she nudged Hux into moving by pushing the registration into his hands. He snapped out of his panic, realising they could leave- and recollected some of his wits.

“Your mother has an appointment with me tomorrow,” he said, loud enough for the eavesdroppers to hear. “I hear your grandfather is on life support- COPD finally got that bad, I understand.”

Codi went rigid, grief etching lines into her face. 

“Yeah,” she admitted after a tense moment of silence. “His ABN said to pull him off life support if he couldn’t make a recovery.” 

Hux narrowed his eyes. 

"Tell your mother I'm cancelling her consultation."

Her mouth gaped open. 

"My family has always had our dead seen to by the Woodhaven Funeral Home, it's the oldest one in the county, you can't do that!" she sputtered. “It would break my grandma’s heart!”

"I'd apologise, but you were looking at a funeral home run by a woman named Elisabeth, and there is no such funeral home. The only Woodhaven Funeral Home is run by me, and my legal name, on my business certificate, my license, and all the company's information, is Sebastian. So the consultation is invalid."

He gave her a smooth, cruel smile. 

"Maybe Wolfe-Bayview or Pinerest will take your mother for a consultation at such short notice. Have a good day, Ms Lowall.”

He paused, then put a hand to his heart insincerely.

“I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers." 

He turned and strode away from the desk, making as hasty a retreat to the hearse as he could without looking like he was running. Once outside, people still staring from inside the DMV, Hux applied the stickers to each plate with shaking hands. Phasma put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

“Don’t be,” he replied, just as quietly. “Thank you for defending me. I should have expected it.”

“Doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

“No,” he agreed, pulling out a Djarum and lighting it. He and Phasma stood in silence as he smoked, the nicotine calming his nerves- he wouldn’t smoke in the hearse. 

"Damn if that wasn't a power move, cancelling Lowall's appointment. Might bite you in the ass later, though."

"Worth it, if it means her mother comes crawling to me to get me to reconsider- or has Codi do the crawling in order to get it back," Hux replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

“You okay?” Phasma asked after Hux finished his cigarette and snubbed it out beneath his heel. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing her at work like you suggested,” he joked half-heartedly. Phasma snickered and unlocked the white hearse. 

“Women like her? They’ll end up under Mae’s knife sooner than later. Give it time.”

“I’d prefer sooner. See you back at the funeral home,” Hux replied. He and Phasma exchanged a smirk and he got into the black hearse, she into the white.

As the two hearses drove off, a black dog poked its head out of the bushes under a dogwood tree, watching them disappear down Fairhope Avenue. Once they were out of sight, it turned its gaze back towards the DMV. Amber eyes turned black, a red back-lit glow flickering in the centre like a crimson tapetum lucidum. 

White fangs and plum coloured gums flashed in the dog’s black muzzle as it lifted its lip in a predatory snarl, a low growl rumbling deep in its throat and chest. 

The growl was one of primal hunger.

* * *

Hux came home from work to find yet another mutilated corpse on his stoop- and the splatter of blood against the door that indicated this one, like the others, had been thrown there. He could see the gleam of bone from the car as he put it in park. He let out a very long, exasperated sigh, and cast his eyes around. Paw prints were scattered in the dirt near the wards, the grass flattened where Kylo had obviously paced, waiting for Hux’s return. 

Hux groaned and got out of the car, holding his grocery bags in the left hand, keys in the right. He thumbed the fob, locking the Phantom, and headed to the stairs. He glanced back at his car, seeing how it was exposed to open skies.

He frowned, making a mental note that eventually, he should add a carport- or better yet, convert the old storage building into a garage for the Phantom. He wasn’t looking forward to the pollen season turning his car yellow.

He stopped on the second to last step, wiggled the toe of his shoe under the welcome mat, and flipped it over to the side. The mat flopped onto the ground, taking the pile of flesh and bone with it with a wet sound that made Hux mildly ill. 

“That was rude,” Kylo growled from the shadows of the slaughterhouse before materialising into view at the entrance.

Hux was mildly unnerved to see he was in the form of the large black dog he usually took.

“So is throwing mutilated dead things at someone’s door in an attempt to intimidate them,” he retorted once he recovered his tongue. 

The door was open, the air conditioning wafting across his legs from the cool, welcoming kitchen, but Hux couldn’t stop staring at Kylo. It was as if protocol, manners, or some other unspoken rule demanded he have conversation with the creature before turning his back on it. 

All the while, the hellhound- for what other word could Hux use for such a thing?- sat on his haunches, his jaws opening to flash long white fangs as he licked his chops- he still had blood on his muzzle from whatever it was he'd killed. His eyes glittered wickedly in the intelligent, feral face, never looking away from Hux. They were more amber than red, and Hux wondered at it.

“Intimidate? No,” he finally said, and Hux felt chills run down his spine, seeing the dog speak. The lips didn’t move entirely right, and the jaws snapped on each syllable, teeth glinting. It was eerie, almost uncanny, and Hux wondered if this was what it was like to lose grip on reality. 

“No? Then why? Surely if you wanted to be nice, you’d catch me a deer and filet it with those nice claws of yours. A pack of back-strip and venison steaks is much more likely to garner my affection than the mutilated corpse of a raccoon… or whatever that was,” he countered, turning to push through the door at last, the bare minimum for discourse satisfied. 

“It was a coyote getting close to your precious stables. You’re welcome,” Kylo replied, licking bloody teeth as he moved as close to the wards as he dared.

Hux paused, the door nearly slamming him on the ass.

“Oh. Thank you, I think?”

Kylo merely hummed, sitting on his haunches, right against the ward line. Hux blinked at him awkwardly for a few moments, then finally went inside when no more conversation was forthcoming.

Kylo tilted his head as he looked through the window, observing the human. He watched as Hux moved about in the kitchen, unloading groceries and prepping for dinner, his eyes following every movement the man made.

He patiently waited, watching as Hux laid out a steak in a pan of marinade. His ears flicked as he saw Hux chop up the fixings for salad, and he licked his teeth again as Hux rolled up his sleeves smartly to the elbow. His eyes traced over the pale freckled forearms as Hux gave the steak a good rub down with spices before putting it back in the marinade. 

With a salad in the fridge, the steak marinating, and a mostly placid hellhound still waiting outside, Hux debated on whether he should grill outside, or cook the steak in the cast iron skillet. As he argued with himself over the pros and cons each form of cooking entailed, he pulled a bottle of raspberry lambic out of the fridge and poured himself a large glass, watching it form a thick pink head of foam. 

Hux shot a look at the canine face that still watched him outside, the ears perked. He glared pointedly. 

“Will you try to kill me again, or can I grill my dinner unmolested?” he asked, knowing, somehow, the dog-thing could hear him through the door. 

His answer was to see the monster slink away from the door and around the front of the house towards the porch. There was a thud on the roof of the porch, and Hux rolled his eyes, knowing he was perched on top. 

_I really need to find a way to keep him off the roof._

Hux snatched up a match-book and a bag of charcoal, which he balanced on his hip with the crook of his arm. Getting his glass, he headed to the porch. He set the glass of lambic on the outdoor table, and moved off the porch to set up the grill.

Kylo watched him from the roof, his long tail draped over the edge, wagging slightly. Hux watched him warily as he piled charcoal into the grill, knowing that the slightly wagging tail did not mean friendliness. Kylo was not a good dog. He had to be careful with him.

“It wasn’t to intimidate,” Kylo said, lifting a foreleg to lick at the top of his paw delicately. Clearly, he was not done with their previous conversation- or wanted to have the last word. 

“No? What, then?” Hux asked, picking up some pecan branches from the firewood pile and breaking them into pieces with satisfying snaps and tossing them into the bottom of the grill with the charcoal. Pecan wood gave meat a wonderful smoky taste that was reminiscent of a bonfire, and would go perfectly with the marinade. 

“It was a welcome gift,” Kylo said, wrinkling his muzzle as Hux retrieved a bottle of lighter fluid and doused the briquettes and pecan sticks. He clearly didn’t like the acrid smell. Hux snorted as he set the fluid aside. 

“Azalea bushes everywhere, two magnolia trees, an entire tunnel of honeysuckle lining the driveway, two gorgeous camellia bushes, and the guest house is COVERED in wisteria vines, but you couldn’t find flowers?” he asked as he struck a match and lit the pile of wood and charcoal. 

The flame caught and Hux coaxed it gently, using the tongs to shift the contents of the grill into an even level. Once the wood burned and the charcoal glowed, he placed the grill on top. 

“Flowers are for courting- and only as shallow, facetious symbols with no purpose or function. My offerings are flesh and bone and blood. It’s what I am owed. I am simply reminding you. Politely,” Kylo said, resting his chin on the forepaws draped over the edge of the roof as he stared down at Hux. 

“Reminding me? Of what? Owed what?” he asked. He cast his gaze to the kitchen window, wondering if he could go inside and get the steak without the monster finding a way to overturn the grill and catching fire to the house. As if reading his mind, Kylo snorted, shaking his head. 

“This land is my home, I won’t set it on fire, stupid human. Go get your pitiful little slab of meat.”

Hux retreated into the house and brought out his steak and retrieved the glass from the porch table. He set both on the work surface of the grill and set to grilling the steak. Kylo lifted his nose and sniffed the air. 

“Smells good, right?” Hux asked. Kylo snorted again. 

“If you like cooked cow, I guess. I prefer mine with a pulse and a marinade of adrenaline- and of the human variety.”

Hux scowled at him, taking a long swig of his lambic. Kylo’s eyes watched his throat with an unsettling focus as he swallowed. 

“Tell me. Owed what,” he demanded, wiping the foam off his lip with the back of his hand. 

“I am owed flesh and blood by your father, but the coward died away from my domain and I cannot collect. Therefore, I would collect on the collateral he promised.”

Collateral? Hux looked up at him again to continue his questions, only to find the dog was gone, and the tall young man in the long coat was in his place. He was sitting with his legs spread, forearms resting on his bent knees, hands dangling idly between them. Hux swallowed, taken aback by how striking his human form looked in the vestigial traces of sunset. 

Kylo smirked, clearly pleased, his full lips twisting. 

“You like this form?”

The insinuation in his voice was clear, and Hux didn’t even need to see the leer on the monster’s human mask to get the gist. 

“Easier on the eyes than a disobedient mutt or an aberration,” he said coolly, turning back to the grill and flipping the steak, admiring the sear marks on the meat. 

“So cruel,” Kylo demurred sarcastically. “To call the forms I am most comfortable in such names.”

Hux prodded the meat. Too much give. He liked his medium rare, not blue. 

“What are you, exactly?” he asked, lifting his gaze to the bright amber eyes of the admittedly, very pretty human form the monster now wore. 

“There really isn’t an answer to that,” Kylo said, tilting his head, causing a lock of wavy black hair to fall over his cheek from behind his ear. 

Hux was struck with the odd desire to brush fingers over the pale skin and tuck the errant hair back behind the ear. He wondered if his skin were cold, like the skeletal, half dead thing he really was, or burning hot, as seemed proper for a creature from Hell. Either theory seemed fitting.

“I am many things, none of which have names, but are as old as this land. I also have many names, none of which have meaning to me, but seem to help mortals think they understand me, which, I think, is what you want,” Kylo replied, his plush lips curving in a smirk.

“Clearly, you’re a pain in the ass,” Hux said, and took some more long swallows of his drink, very aware of how Kylo watched, fixated on his throat. 

“Hellhound. Shapeshifter. Protean beast. Bengêsko. Demon. Barghest. Grim. Black Shuck, Old Tom, the list goes on,” Kylo intoned, almost sounding bored. 

Hux recognised most of those names, and most of them pertained to a monstrous hound of some sort that lingered after death or came from hell to mete out justice or torment.

“Can you only turn into dogs and humans?” he asked, suddenly inspired by the musing.

Kylo frowned, his thick black brows knitting closely over his long nose and casting his eyes further in shadow. 

“What do you mean?”

Hux flipped his steak, checked the sear marks and decided it was done. He took it off the grill and set it on the board to let it rest. He banked the charcoal and lowered the lid of the grill before focusing on Kylo again.

“Can you only change your shape into humans and canines because you’re a hellhound, or can you become anything?”

Kylo smirked, and leapt lightly from the roof. As he did, his form blurred, shifted, and darkened. He became amorphous, incorporeal, and stretched- both outward and upwards. In a matter of moments, he solidified again, and was back on the ground, on the other side of the wards. 

He was no longer human or dog, but a jet black Friesian- or something akin to it. A jet black horse with long mane and tail that made Hux think of a kelpie, especially since there were unmistakable bits of moss and under brush woven in the long hair. The face was intelligent and the eyes were a dark amber that burned with feral cunning more suited to a wolf than a horse. 

What truly gave him away was his size- he had to stand at least twenty hands tall, a good five hands taller than Millicent. His hooves, a dark ebony, were also heavy and large, far more so than Milli’s. 

Hux found himself approaching the wards, taken in by the facade of an herbivore, when Kylo grinned- or rather, pulled back his lips in an equine smile. In place of flat incisors, Kylo had sharp, wicked fangs that glittered against gums the colour of plum. 

Hux instantly drew back with a chill running down his spine and drawing him out of the awe-struck spell the horse-shape had cast on him. The fangs were a stark reminder of the fact that his creature was NOT docile or loyal like his Millicent. Kylo whickered and bobbed his head, and Hux was about to ask if he could only speak in certain forms, when the demon responded.

“I thought you would be more responsive to an equine form, seeing as you prefer the company of your horse to mine,” Kylo said, stamping a hoof in mock irritation, though it was clear he enjoyed seeing Hux balk. 

“I typically do enjoy horses, but not talking demon horses with fangs that look like the kelpies of legend who drown and eviscerate people they lure onto their back,” Hux retorted. 

Kylo lifted his lip again, showing off his fangs in a macabre equine smile, whickering in a guttural voice that was far off from the norm of any horse Hux had ever known. 

“You could ride me,” he said, his voice cloyingly sweet. “I wouldn’t drown you.”

Hux picked up his plate and headed for the porch. 

“I didn’t hear ‘I wouldn’t drown AND eviscerate you’ in that, so I’ll pass,” he said dryly, heading inside.

Kylo let out an unmistakable whinny of laughter that sounded like multiple women, children and horses screaming, and pranced around the yard. He stepped high and proud, holding his head and tail high and eliciting angry snorts and whinnies from Millicent in her paddock when he came close enough. Hux sat at the kitchen table and watched him as he ate his dinner, wondering what the point of all the showboating was. 

If this was Kylo’s idea of trying to make friends, it was clear he hadn’t had practise in centuries. 

“Sebastian,” Kylo called- this time without the crooning- and Hux looked up from his dinner to see him in human form once again, his expression plaintive.

“Please take the wards down and let me come inside. I promise I can be a well-behaved dinner guest. I don't want to eat you… Not right now, I swear. I would just like to be companionable.”

His voice didn't quite have the unnerving crooning but it was still sweet, and Hux shuddered, remembering the monster's voice going tender and kind before breaking his window and filling the frame with its massive jaws. 

Yet, there was something plaintive, almost pleading in his request, and it tugged at something in Hux's chest. Hux squashed the feeling immediately. 

“Not on your life, asshole. I don’t trust you,” he said levelly. 

Kylo pouted, then brightened. 

“I know how to get you to trust me- maybe even _like_ me,” he said, almost _chirping_ with excitement. He bounced on his toes a little, then with a whirl of smoke, he gave himself a violent shake, and the dog was back. 

Kylo lowered himself on his front legs, making an obvious play bow. His jaws were parted, long pink tongue lolling out, white teeth flashing. His long fluffy tail wagged furiously. 

“I know just what to do to make you like me,” he said excitedly. “Just you wait, Sebastian. You’re going to love it.”

He bounded to his feet, leapt onto the roof with a clatter of claws and paw pads, ran across the tin, and Hux heard the _THUD_ of something massive hit the ground on the far side of the house- and its wards. 

There was a thundering of paws and hooves, and Hux got up, looking out the window just in time to see the borzoi-mix go galloping into the trees. He shook his head and sat back down to finish his dinner. 

He’d sounded massive, yet had been average dog size. 

Kylo had been reminding him of his true nature, or couldn't always hide what he really was.

Hux sighed as he polished off the last bit on his plate. He stored the leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch, and put the dishes in the new dishwasher. He stretched, cracked his back, then glanced upwards, towards his room. Since Kylo was gone....

It was time to open that chest. 

* * *

  
  


Hux sprawled out on his stomach, feet in the air as he propped his torso up on his elbows, chin resting on the backs of his hands. His brows were furrowed, and his mouth twisted in indecision. It was close to eight o’clock, his belly was full, another storm was rolling in, and he had the window open to let in the smell of ozone, rain, magnolia and honeysuckle. His sheets were smooth and cool under his bare stomach, and he was generally, in a very good, very contented mood. 

It was the book lying on the bed in front of him that had his face twisted into a frown.

The book was old, with a well worn, smooth and supple leather cover. It had no embellishment, and was held closed with equally timeworn brass clasps that were dull and rounded with use. It was locked with an ancient clasp lock, and the key, which Hux found by accident inside the liner of the trunk when poking around for more clues, almost didn’t unlock it. Hux had had to dig out some WD-40 to get the tumblers to turn and release. 

Now, he was sprawled on the bed, with the unlocked, but unopened book in front of him, trying to tell himself the brown stains scattered on the page edges were from age. He wanted to know more about the monster that seemed equally interested in killing him as it was in wanting to know him. He had almost considered _asking_ Kylo, but had the feeling he wouldn’t get a straight answer- he’d have to read the book for that. 

Hux had tried scattering salt around his window, hopefully to deter Kylo from coming onto the roof near it, but he hadn't returned yet. Hux actually had no idea where the hellhound was, and that unnerved him. 

_Or_ , Hux thought with a scowl, _he's gone hunting to leave another corpse on the stoop._

Better to take advantage of his absence, but opening the book- more of a grimoire, really, Hux thought- felt like making something go over the edge where it couldn’t be retrieved. No going back, no return, and no recovering from the plunge. As if it were all a fever dream, and opening the book would make the phantasmagoria a reality. 

He remembered the man’s viscera spilling out of the split skin of his belly, and the blood that had stained the grass. The pawprints around his car. The scratches on the roof. All physical, tangible things that pointed to the impossible being possible.

A young man who turned into a monster that was also a dog, but could also be a horse with fangs that perched on his roof and left mutilated corpses on his stoop, had tried to attack him, but at the same time seemed to delight in being close to him. A demon, a monster, something not normal, not natural, not at ALL in any shape or form good in any sense of the word that was obsessed with him- and his death.

Hux took a deep breath and lowered a hand to the cover of the book. His fingers touched the edge of the buttery leather, hesitated, then pulled it up. The pages fluttered, disturbed by the movement, and then were still. Hux’s eyes lingered over the first page- simply a few words, written in ink that was brown, but Hux suspected at one point, they’d been red.

_The Continuation of the Hux Bloodline as recorded by heir apparent of each generation_ , the header proclaimed in flowing script, and underneath, was signature after signature in different- but oddly similar- handwriting. Hux read each one, eyes tracing the flow of each one. 

_Edward. Nathaniel. Darwin. John. Alexander. Nicholas. Benjamin. Silas._

All forefathers of the Hux line. Ten generations of family spreading over 300 years. Surely this book was a replacement, the first page copied and placed inside. No book would last that long with so much use without deteriorating. Hux stopped reading the names to examine the book, and saw the cover was enforced- the edges had metal ribbing under the leather, making a frame. Close to the spine, there was lacing of what looked like ribbon and silver thread that sent a tingle up his arm when he touched it with a fingertip. 

A witch had cursed them with this beast. Surely the Hux forefathers had adopted their own forms of magic to combat it, and preserve the knowledge gained by it. The thought would have made him laugh a few weeks ago, but now, it came as easily as plans for his next outfit or meal, and this unsettled him. 

His eyes fell on the last two names- Eric and Brendol. His grandfather and father. Their signatures were much darker, and were close to red- closer than the oldest signatures, for sure. There was clearly a rite to this, but Hux wasn’t sure what he was to do. Was there a note further in the book?

Moving to sit cross legged on the bed, Hux lifted the book, and saw something glint at the top of the spine. He prodded at it, and found himself teasing out a stout dip pen with a very sharp metal point- sharp enough that it sliced open his thumb, and Hux knew now that it wasn’t ink his family had signed with. 

Sticking his sliced thumb into his mouth and sucking on it, trying to ignore the copper-salt taste, Hux used his other hand to flip through the pages, skimming the content. The first few pages described the monster, with encounters, notes, sketches- the quality varying with the skill of the one drawing them. 

Hux flipped through the pages, looking for more information that was relevant and more recent- surely things changed as time went on. The handwriting changed as the next heir took up the book, and the tone changed- there were actually two heirs who seemed to revel in their situation. Hux stopped to read their notes, curious.

> _The beast is dangerous, of this there is no doubt, but with the proper incentive, it can be made amenable. The proper incentive also works to one’s benefit. I found that if I give it names, and permission, it will destroy them. It is content with the lives and flesh it gets to consume, and I am rid of enemies._

Hux almost considered it, the day’s events with Codi and the gum chewing cow flashing through his mind, but immediately discarded the thought. He owned and ran the main funeral home of the area- he’d be able to hold that over the head of anyone who decided to give him grief. Hell, he’d already done it, and it was effective- nothing got people in this area to put up or shut up quite like being denied family traditions involving death.

His own skeletons were nothing compared to the graveyards he could dig up.

He continued to read, skimming to another section from a more enthusiastic Hux.

> _I give the beast whatever it wants, save for my own flesh and blood. In return, it keeps the land clear of pests, and guards the house- and my life. Storms do not touch my home. Summer drought does not affect my water supply. Insects never plague my fields, and coyotes do not hunt my livestock. The milk of my cows is the richest in the state, and makes the best cream, the most delicious cheese, and I make incredible profits._

There was a considerable gap in the writing, divided by drops of reddish brown. 

> _The price is worth it. Be it a pregnant cow (the unborn calf is a favourite of the beast’s) the first, fresh pail of milk of spring, or the tender flesh of something else innocent and unwary, it is worth it. I am justified in the price I pay for the prosperity of the dairy._
> 
> _I am justified. The price is worth it._
> 
> _The price is worth it._

Hux didn’t want to know what the “something else innocent and unwary” was. He had the feeling it was not something he’d be comfortable with. He skimmed through some more, searching, looking for anything that was more agreeable than lives of humans, and anything that was possible, given the dairy no longer had cows and milk. 

He frowned. There was a ridge of paper where pages had been ripped out of the book. What had been torn from the tome? 

He paused, eyes lingering on an entry closer to the back end of the book. 

> _I learned to bind the beast, quite by accident. I had been given the ancient fang by Deidre Kanata, and used it to defend myself against the beast, but not before it wounded me. My blood soaked the fang, which I used to attack him. Our blood mingled on the fang, and the beast immediately ceased its attack. It seemed completely incapable of continuing its assault._
> 
> _I retreated behind the wards, and put the fang in a glass of vodka. When the blood had washed off the fang and soaked the alcohol, I removed it, and poured the liquid into a phial for preservation. I know the alcohol wouldn’t last, and would dry up, so I made a tincture out of it. Placing it in various places, putting it in a pendant._
> 
> _The effects were immediate, but of mixed blessings. My wards became useless when I was inside them. The beast could freely enter them, come and go as it pleased, but was physically unable to attack me. If I left the wards, it was unable to enter them to go after someone else, so they were safe._
> 
> _The result is that it can move wherever it wants, and this puts the safety of others who may visit at risk, but I myself am safe, immune from its attacks. Theoretically, this might work with the blood of others, but I am unwilling to risk mixing the beast’s blood with that of any other. I also believe it may not work with others due to the inherited curse of the Hux bloodline._
> 
> _For now, the tincture works. I only hope it holds until I can find a way to renew the supply of both our blood._

Hux winced, as the next few entries spoke of attempted harvests, and weakening of the tincture as it dried, faded, and was gone. The next entry was by his great-grandfather.

> _Father passed, and the property, the curse, is now mine to bear. I have already thought of a way to keep the beast at bay, but time will tell if my methods come to fruition._
> 
> _The dairy died with my grandfather, and my own father was not talented in the ways of animal husbandry. It was expected that his experiments would cause the decline of the livestock, given that the beast was free to attack the workers and cattle with abandon. I sold the remaining cattle to the dairy just founded outside the limits of Fairhope, and will use the money to start a funeral home._

Hux hurriedly scanned the entries, and found what he was looking for- and his stomach dropped in horror. 

> _Silverhill is a small town, and the nearby towns of Fairhope, Daphne and Point Clear are only marginally bigger- though I expect the growth of Fairhope and Daphne will be exceptional in the years to come. The area is beautiful, and encourages the preservation of historical buildings, monuments and artistic community. All the while, religion, especially that of the Protestant persuasion, is dominant. This makes for a superstitious population- Silverhill all the more so._
> 
> _Religious, superstitious people revere and fear death. It is only logical I take this fear, this reverence, this superstition, and make it into a career… and a means of keeping the beast at bay to protect the family until the next heir can take over._

“...oh, please, no,” Hux murmured. He’d pulled the book into his lap, hunched over it almost desperately. 

> _I hate to lie to the townsfolk, but in a way, I enjoy the secret thrill of the desecration of their dead when they themselves started to ostracise, shun, and alienate my beautiful new wife for electing to wed a cursed man such as myself._
> 
> _I take the organs of the newly departed and store them on ice. Instead of burning them for proper disposal, I take them home and leave them by the entrance of the slaughterhouse for the beast. The monster dines on liver, heart, lungs, spleen, and sweetbreads, and is delighted with its fare._
> 
> _It has asked for femurs, for it loves bone marrow. I deny this request, as I can get away with organs, as many corpses are dressed and stuffed to keep them from becoming… soggy. Removing bones, however, is not something I can do covertly unless the family requests cremation._
> 
> _Cremation is not common here. Folks are attached to the dead, and folks are too keen on the embrace of the earth, with the comforting thought of the grave opening to let them out again upon Judgement Day._

Hux blinked as lyrics followed the paragraph.

> _Ain't no grave gonna hold my body down_
> 
> _Ain't no grave gonna hold my body down_
> 
> _When I hear that trumpet sound I'm gonna get up out of the ground_
> 
> _Ain’t no grave gonna hold my body down_

An old song, well known. And in this context, a bit horrifying. There was one more line after that, and Hux read on.

> _As if any of them in this town would be called up on Judgement Day. Ain’t a clean soul here. Not even worth praying for them. Maybe they deserve having their innards fed to the monster. Heaven and Hell both know I do._

“That’s enough of _that,_ thank you, Great-Grandfather,” Hux muttered, skimming past his handwriting, looking for his father’s. 

He found it at the end of the book. His father's familiar, utilitarian handwriting, with small letters and precise spacing. He swallowed, and skimmed through, looking for mention of the collateral Kylo had spoken of. 

> _I find myself at a loss. The beast wants my life, or a bargain, an offer. After the small scandal of organ selling in Mobile, all funeral homes are under close scrutiny, and I cannot give the beast the organs of the dead. I have no livestock, and I cannot, in any good conscience, give names and permission to kill them._
> 
> _The wards are strong. My wife, Maratelle, is of a long line of North Carolina spiritualists, and she reinforces them weekly. We are safe, but even the wards will not save me from the burden of this curse that bears in both myself and the beast._
> 
> _I pity it in a way. It knows nothing but the annihilation of a singular bloodline and the small area to which it is tethered. I know firsthand that it cannot pass certain boundaries defined by means unknowable to me. It is trapped, caged and leashed with a singular purpose. It has no life of its own. I don't think it has companions, a family, or anything that brings it joy aside from the temporary sating of a curse-borne hunger._
> 
> _It must be lonely, to be bound to such a life. Our line is cursed, but we have the ability to love, have family, friends, dreams- even if they are limited by our shorter lifespans. Yet, that definite end, that inescapable demise, it gives us purpose and drive, to live life as full as we can before we succumb._
> 
> _The poor creature will never be released, I don't think._

Hux tilted his head. He hadn't considered that, and it was true. The beast could have come right after him when he accepted the terms of his inheritance and became the heir of Woodhaven. 

Yet, he had not been approached until he had possession of the book, the trunk, and had spent his first night in the house. 

Kylo was bound by territory lines, protocol and tradition, just as much as he was. 

Hux thought of how plaintive Kylo's coaxing had been- not the terrifying night he'd smashed the side of the house with his true horrifying form, but this evening. 

_“Please take the wards down and let me come inside. I promise I can be a well-behaved dinner guest. I don't want to eat you… Not right now, I swear. I would just like to be companionable.”_

Was he lonely? 

"No, he will say anything to get to you and your tasty guts," Hux said to himself, and kept reading. 

> _We have hit a snag, and I don't know how to proceed._
> 
> _Maratelle is infertile. Her womb cannot sustain a full pregnancy. We are devastated for all the normal reasons any couple would have when facing infertility, but this has extra weight, double the consequences._
> 
> _How can I provide an heir to carry on the line when my wife cannot bear children? I don't know what this would mean, but one thing I do know for certain:_
> 
> _There must always be a Hux at Woodhaven._

Hux stared at the pages, reading the words over and over, unable to process what his eyes were seeing. 

_Maratelle is infertile._

If his mother was infertile… Who had given birth to him? 

"Who was my mother, then?" he asked aloud, his voice quavering in the thick silence that was peculiar to approaching storms. 

> _We discussed it at length, Maratelle and I. We thought, perhaps, the line was meant to die with me, and perhaps the beast could return to wherever it came from. The land would go to the state, and life would begin again anew._
> 
> _I found evidence that this is not possible, and that there must always be a Hux at Woodhaven._

The handwriting changed then, if only slightly, in that it became informal, familiar, and sincere. 

> _Sebastian:_
> 
> _I know, by now, you must be reading this awful book. I do not know what will have happened to me by this point, but I know I will be dead._
> 
> _I know I hurt you when I refused to accept your gender, accept you as a son. It was not of any hatred of you, or disrespect of your true self, and I wish I could have told you this while I drew breath._
> 
> _The truth of the matter is that I tried, in vain, to protect you from this. I tried to find a loophole that would give you the life you deserved, and the death I wanted, and the freedom our family- and the beast - long deserved._
> 
> _It is very likely I failed, but I will explain what I attempted to do, so that you will not repeat my mistake._
> 
> _Your mother and I chose a surrogate to have you, and I made a deal with the beast after we learned your sex based on the ultrasound._
> 
> _I promised I would give the beast my firstborn son as collateral to allow me to live my life without being hunted down by it. It agreed._
> 
> _I didn't want to raise you on the land, near that monster. I wanted a good life for you, outside its boundaries, but it turned out I only expanded them. I thought, foolishly, that if I promised a son I never had, I wouldn't have to pay, and the debt would wait, uncollected, and the loophole would save us all._
> 
> _I was wrong. The beast knew another child wasn't forthcoming, and sought alternative payment. So I tried to save you._
> 
> _I pushed you to join the military so you'd get far from here and hopefully make a career that would keep you from needing this inheritance, this legacy._
> 
> _I refused to accept your coming out because when you told me you were not my daughter, but my son, you had damned yourself to a fate I tried to save you from._
> 
> _I am so sorry, Sebastian, my child,_ **_my son._ ** _For both my arrogance and my inability to tell you that I loved you no matter how you chose to live._
> 
> _But now, I must urge you to take this last bit of advice seriously, despite your feelings towards me:_
> 
> _Do not attempt to leave Woodhaven. If you are reading this, you are here, and you have come in contact with the beast. You cannot leave. If you do, you will unleash calamity on the community._
> 
> _I tore out pages of one of our forefathers, of his attempt at trying to leave and break the curse. It will only cause pain. He succeeded, but when he left, an outbreak of cholera, yellow fever and rabies struck the towns. A literal plague fell upon man and beast, and they were caused by the monster on our land. It was untethered, unleashed, without a Hux to counter him._
> 
> _That is the truth of our curse, Sebastian. We pay in flesh and blood for the transgressions our founding father committed, but we also pay penance by acting as guardians and keepers to the monster the Widow Benson unleashed centuries ago, without having the full knowledge of what she called upon to do her bidding._
> 
> _It will torment you, it will cause you many grievances, but you will keep its wrath, its powers at bay. You are its counterpoint._
> 
> _You must find a way to placate it. Make a deal, barter. It lives for the deal, for the thrill of bargaining. It is a demon, after all. Be wary when it speaks kindly, for the most treachery brews in its heart when it speaks sweetly._
> 
> _Forgive me my vanity, I only hoped to spare you. I hope in time, you may forgive me, but I pray that you will find a way to live your life without sacrificing who you are or those you love._
> 
> _Tread carefully, my son._
> 
> _Brendol Hux._

Hux stared at the book. He was overcome with so many conflicting emotions he was numb. 

  
  


His mother was not his biological mother. His father _hadn’t_ hated him. He’d pushed him away for his own safety. 

“But you used me as collateral to try to break a curse you didn’t deem necessary to tell me about,” he said out loud, working out his thoughts, wishing it helped. 

“What do I do now?”

He looked back down at the book, the pen with its metal nib glinting in the light of his lamps. Outside, thunder rumbled, and the first pattering of rain began on the roof. Hux sighed, and picked up the pen. 

“I carry on, that’s what I do.”

Carefully, he sliced into the pad of his already sliced left thumb and cut a little deeper into the cut- just enough to make it bleed again. He hissed at the pain, watching as crimson welled to the surface, and he dipped the sharp point into it. He took a deep breath, and put the loaded nib to the page.

> _I, Sebastian Armitage Hux, have taken possession of the account of the Hux Bloodline, and have taken ownership through name, deed, and claim of the Woodhaven property. In doing so, I accept the burden of all that this entails, and will seek to make arrangements with the ward of the bloodline._

He wrote the oath in his own words, but kept it formal, and used phrases seen throughout the pages that his forefathers had used. Part of him worried his oath wouldn’t be accepted, that he had to have been born a male to be seen as a true heir to the Hux bloodline. 

> _I swear to keep to my agreements, should I make them. I swear that I shall not leave the property without an heir to carry on the burden of our bloodline. I swear that the events of the past by the Hux, whose records have been removed, will not come to repeat themselves in my time. I accept my role, my burden as caretaker of the property, warden of the beast, and guardian of our home._

He slid the pen back into the spine of the tome, and stuck his sliced thumb into his mouth, sucking on the throbbing cut. 

Nothing felt different. There was no immediate crash of thunder, no increase of rainfall, no dramatic indication that something had changed. 

“I suppose it was made official when I slept in the house for the first time,” he said to himself. He made a face.

“I should get an indoor pet and stop talking to myself.”

He put everything back into the trunk, and set it on his night stand before grabbing a bandage from the drawer and wrapping it around his thumb. Outside, the storm intensified as Hux shed his clothes and donned a black bathrobe. He grabbed his Djarums, lighter tucked inside the box, and padded down the stairs barefoot to the porch for one last cigarette. 

The storm was raging, hammering against the roof and sending a fine mist through the screens of the porch and rocking the old white wooden swing. Hux stuck a Djarum in his mouth and cupped his hands around it, shielding his lighter from the wind until the tip lit and an ember burned in the dark. 

Hux inhaled, enjoying the burn of clove and nicotine, the cold mist and wind on his face a stark contrast. It was an equal contrast of the calm of enjoying a cigarette while the storm raged around him. 

He would manage this. He’d carry on, and live his life- while learning to live with the monstrosity that came with all he’d been given. He could do that. He could deal with that. 

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a heavy wet thud and splashing outside the porch near his wards- something falling in the wet grass and standing water. There was a snort, a growl, and steam roiled in the storm. Red eyes flared in the torrential darkness, and Hux sighed. 

“I’m going to bed, Kylo. I am not in the mood.” 

“I told you,” Kylo said, his breath forming clouds between the rain, and the light from the house glinted on his jaws. “I knew just what to do to make you like me.”

Hux moved to the door, frowning. His voice was… excited, and almost honest. He peered through the rain, then turned on the porch light, unable to see what Kylo had done- or was doing. 

The yellow light shone on the massive creature, and Hux was seeing him in full view, in his true form for the first time- and Kylo was standing there expectantly, tail wagging, so all of him was easily seen.

Kylo, for lack of better term, was a massive canine mixed with a primordial stag or other primitive, long extinct ungulate. His body was what one might expect the offspring of a borzoi and a dire wolf to look like- lean, muscular, long limbed, long soft fur. His front legs ended in massive paws with long semi-blunt claws that looked like they were made for assisting in running- but were still sharp enough to be dangerous.

Where hind legs should have been canine, they were that of some unknown ungulate. Each hind leg ended in sharp, three-toed cloven hooves that made Hux think of the long extinct eohippus, only sharper, and with the centre toe having a cloven nail, the outer toes having a single sharp nail that looked like a mix of hoof and claw. The tail was twice as long as it should have been, and the spines of the vertebrae jutted sharply from the thick ridge of fur along Kylo’s back, gleaming a bright white. 

His head was what made Hux stare the most. 

His head was a flawless, fluid combination of canine and cervine- the muzzle was mostly cervine, save for the sharp fangs, long canines and ripping molars; the eyes were in between, still set to the side of the skull, but with zygomatic arches and a tilt and set of the sockets that made the glowing red eyes have a more forward facing direction- a perfect combination of predator focus and prey field of vision. 

The skull was crowned with a set of massive antlers that raked out to the side and forward- a beautiful, but intimidating twenty point rack. To the side of each antler, and behind the zygomatic arches, was a tall, furry canine ear that pointed straight up. One was pointed at Hux, the other swivelling about with a range of motion that seemed more possible to that of a deer- or a horse, as Hux had seen such a range of motion on his mare’s ears. 

Just behind the antlers, and falling over and around the neck of the hellhound, was a thick black ruff of fur that ended somewhere between the front legs along the stomach, and also ran along the line of his spine, only interrupted by the protrusions of bone. 

Kylo was equal parts terrifying… and almost cute- in a ‘fluffy monster dog soaked in the rain’ sort of way. He wasn’t nearly as horrifying when he was simply sitting in the rain and not trying to destroy his house in order to devour him. For a moment, Hux wondered how fluffy he would be when dry and groomed.

Hux cast his gaze to the ground where Kylo’s eyes were focused, and the sound of the rain, the thunder, the wind, all went silent as his blood roared in his ears. He dropped his cigarette, and the mist from the rain quickly doused the ember, the half smoked Djarum rolling across the blue painted wood floor.

Hux felt nothing. Heard nothing. Saw nothing, save for the limp form that was sprawled in the sodden grass, half in shadow, half in yellow light of the bare porch bulb. 

“Do you like my present?” Kylo asked, bouncing on his feet, ducking into a play bow, haunches in the air, tail wagging and sending drops of water and mud everywhere as he waited, happily, eagerly, for Hux to approve of the offering in the rain soaked grass. 

Hux stared in shock, his mouth gaping open with a scream that wouldn’t surface, stuck somewhere in his chest as he gazed into the glazed over eyes. The head was falling back at an unnatural angle, the jaws open wide in a gruesome, soundless scream, the body twisted in joint tearing, bone breaking positions from where it had been dropped. Blood soaked her clothes from large puncture wounds in her chest and abdomen that could only be from Kylo's teeth.

She was still wearing the same outfit he’d seen her in that afternoon. 

Hux covered his mouth and opened the door as the bile that had blocked his scream rose in his throat. He vomited, violently, over the stairs and into the yard. 

Kylo’s ears wilted, his glowing red eyes went dark in his sockets, his tail tucked between his legs, and he _whimpered._ The monster _whimpered_ and _whined._

“I thought this would make you happy,” he said sadly. “You said you’d like to see her like this sooner than later. She was cruel to you, cut you worse than any of my attempts have- and only with words. I thought you’d like this- that you'd like me.”

It wasn't contrition that drove his plaintive sounds, but disappointment that Hux hadn't been happy with his gift. Kylo felt no guilt over killing- he never did. He just didn't understand why this hadn't made Hux happy, why he wasn't pleased. Surely this was what he'd meant during his conversation with the steely woman by the white hearse?

“No,” Hux whispered. “Not like this, not this, not, no, no, nononono…”

Hux vomited again, and his litany, his whispered pleas of “No, no, no,” continued on for some time.

All the while, Kylo hung his antlered head and whined, rain dripping from his fur and bony skull. Hux had read The Book, had Signed it. He knew this- he'd felt it on his way home with the offering in his jaws. He'd been so excited, ready to make an agreement, a bargain, hoping this time, _this time,_ it would be the last time.

Had he been wrong? Again?

The world was silent, save for the rain and the whining of the hellhound. Under the downpour, the gaping jaws of Codi Lowall pooled with rainwater, frozen open in one final, eternal silent scream as her twisted body sprawled on Hux’s front lawn. 

  
  



	6. [Notes/Art: Kylo]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter of notes and art about Kylo, his various forms and his limitations, origins, etc!

Just a reminder that a lot of this can be found on my [tumblr](https://emperorsvornskr.tumblr.com/)!

Kylo's form is inspired by a mix of species- Borzoi, wolf, red deer, and mesohippus!

Bonus shot of his hind peets.

Update!

Kylo's Shuck form ♥ (art by me)

A headshot of Kylo's hellhound form Art by [Adomaniia](https://adomaniia.weebly.com/) ♥

Notes on Kylo and how magic/wards affect him:

Kylo is originally a protective spirit that bound himself to a family to be inherited from one generation to the next. This is very similar to a Rromani legend, the Butyakengo, which is a protective spirit that inhabits someone’s body and is part of a deceased ancestor/family member. It’s a form of ancestor folk lore/reverence. My grandmother had one she left gifts out for, but I don’t remember her exact term for it, as Butyakengo is not the Kalderash term, but Vlax (I think.)

> **Disclaimer: My grandmother was Kalderash Rromani, and came to the US from Romania, so a lot of Kylo’s backstory and lore is based on mixed elements of my heritage ♥**

It’s not the term I am personally using for Kylo, but the idea is similar. I guess the term I’d use is _mule baxtalo_ which is “lucky ancestral spirit” but it still doesn’t 100% apply because Kylo was not born of the family he originally swore himself to- he was born of the forest, so he technically would be called Wershgláta _,_ which means Forest Child or Child of the Woods.

The term for his current and permanent form, however is definitely Bengêsko- which means Cranky, Dreadful, Fiendish, Ornery, Beastly, Ominous. It’s basically a catch-all term for Bad, Monstrous, and Bad Tempered. Hellhound is a more modern term to describe him because hellhound doesn’t always mean “black dog with fiery eyes.”

> ** Another disclaimer: I have had people ask if Kylo is a w*ndigo. He is not. Please do not refer to him as such, it’s bad luck, a bad idea, and frankly, just wrong. I don’t fuck with w*ndigoag, just like I don’t fuck with skinwalkers, even the Appalachian variety. There are some things you don’t mess with.  **

ANYWAY. Long disclaimers/explanations aside, Kylo is a critter born in the hoia-baciu forest, which honestly, you should look up, [it’s delightfully creepy and beautiful.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2Fsearch%3Fclient%3Dfirefox-b-1-d%26sxsrf%3DALeKk00TXrktx1mNjqO4giSNq6lPdbgLpw%253A1586178840407%26ei%3DGCuLXvKxGISIytMPkdaJiA0%26q%3Dhoia-baciu%2Bforest%26oq%3Dhoia-baciu%2Bforest%26gs_lcp%3DCgZwc3ktYWIQAzICCAAyBggAEBYQHjIGCAAQFhAeMgYIABAWEB4yBggAEBYQHjIGCAAQFhAeMgYIABAWEB4yBggAEBYQHjIGCAAQFhAeMgYIABAWEB46BAgjECc6BAgAEB46BQgAEM0CSg4IFxIKMTAtMTM1ZzExMEoKCBgSBjEwLTdnM1D28ARYzKUFYPinBWgCcAB4AIABnQGIAY8IkgEDNS41mAEAoAEBqgEHZ3dzLXdpeg%26sclient%3Dpsy-ab%26ved%3D0ahUKEwjyndTS8NPoAhUEhHIEHRFrAtEQ4dUDCAs%26uact%3D5&t=NzA2OTExYzczYzYyNDg3YjYwNWYwMzQ5YTE4N2M2NzU1YTQwNWI2OSxWZXlibkF2RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Asoj9rtr6EgeAipJZQHMQRQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Femperorsvornskr.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F614656387111321600%2Fhey-there-i-love-your-fic-and-the-intricacy&m=0) (which, yes, I did this on purpose, is in Transylvania. Kylo is supposed to be a progenitor of many legends due to the many centuries of humans he came in contact with who saw different sides of him as he tried to live his life without conflict.)

Kylo is affected by hallowed ground and wards depending on the type, intent, and materials used to create them.

Holy water will do fuck all to him. Just the cross or just plain silver will have him looking at you like you’re bringing a letter opener to a gun fight. A plain religious symbol of any type will have no effect save for informing him what your beliefs are, and he’ll use that to your advantage by taking forms he think will terrify you the most based on those beliefs and associated superstitions.

Folk magic works on him because there’s no specific religion, it’s all about intent, and materials. Iron does affect him, especially if it’s rusty- Kylo is a creature of life and death, and rusted iron is basically a physical, man made form of entropy, which fucks up how life and death interacts with his body.

(Also, rusty nails/railroad spikes are one of the best ways to create boundaries to tell unwanted spirits/fae that you are not wanting their company. Also helps ward off negative bs. My roommates and I have a ward line of a few spikes buried in the yard for just that purpose.)

Silver works if mixed with salt, works even better if mixed with specific herbs. Again, it’s intent and material, not religion. It works even better if bodily fluids are involved, because it makes it personal. Like most folk magic, defensive spells and wards are most potent when you make it personal, and add blood, spit or piss.

(I say this as someone who recently made a witch bottle to get a stalker to leave me alone, and shortly after I buried it in the backyard under my window, he stopped mentioning me on his various sites and stopped trying to make fake emails to contact me- and his gf dumped him. Not sure if the latter is related, but I see it as a victory, and I DIGRESS.)

Kylo also acknowledges that he is a transient spirit, and the US is not his home, his birthright, and he is a spiritual immigrant. He only claimed the territory he has because white folks drove out the spirits of the natives- but he promised to take care of it, before he went from _mule baxtalo_ to _Bengêsko_ , that is. He still guards it, but in a very altered way that borders on haunting rather than protecting.

Grounds sacred to Natives are strictly off limits, and he won’t even approach them. Also, despite his disdain for most modern day religion, he does consider graveyards, regardless of affiliation, to be sacrosanct, and shows respect for the dead and their interment sites. The only exception are the graves of the Hux family- he lingers over them and usually leaves bones or blood on the graves as a reminder of what they owe him, or as a way to taint the grave site.

He’s the opposite of a Church Grim in that regard- he isn’t protecting those graves, he’s tormenting them- but he never harasses mourners, and leaves graveyards alone entirely if he sees mourners among the graves.

Even though Kylo scoffs at modern day Wicca and new-age paganism led by folks like Silver Ravenwolf and such, (Listen, don’t get me started on Ravenwolf lol) he still will respect any patch of land that someone has used for a ritual or cleansed it for future use- and despite his feelings on modern paganism, he cannot cross their circle lines, and has no desire to disrupt their rituals or harm them.

Though, fake cults who harm animals for fun, or wannabe Satanists that have it all wrong that come onto the Woodhaven property to sacrifice animals usually get chased out and have the shit scared out of them- Kylo is far more frightening and threatening to those folks that he’s ever been to Hux.

(For a decade, my town’s local no kill animal shelter had a “No solid adoption” period where they wouldn’t allow pure black/white animals be adopted without applications and home visits to be assured that the animal wasn’t going to be sacrificed, because we actually had a cult use the Woodhaven property and this very odd blank spot in the woods on Highway Thirteen as a sacrificial spot. They actually stowed a lot of the bones in this old ass silo in a field by the high school- my best friends and I went to check it out and found so. many. animal bones. It was … something.)

Kylo could enter a church and have no issues, depending on the church’s practices. Most churches in the South are your basic fire and brimstone Baptists, or guitars-and-casual-clothes Methodist, with a few Catholic churches peppered in, and at least one Greek Orthodox.

Kylo doesn’t go into Catholic churches- particularly the Greek Orthodox church in Malbis. Main reasons? The incense, the candles, the gold leaf everywhere and the stained glass windows. Sunlight is an issue as it is for Kylo- sunlight through holy stained glass that sees regular exposure to holy incense? It’d tear him apart. (He technically cannot die, but he can be incapacitated to the point where it’d take him years to reform, and he usually flees before he reaches that point.)

There is ONE church in Fairhope that would pose the greatest threat to him, and while it looks so inane and non-threatening as far as most churches go in the South, being trapped in their building during a sermon would very likely send him to the underworld in pieces and take him a decade to reform and reemerge.

He avoids it like the plague- he doesn’t go within five miles of it. It’s labelled as a Nondenominational church but they are pretty much Pentecostal- they do laying of hands, speaking in tongues, even the occasional snake handling (non venomous, they have a ball python lol) They have a showboating pastor, but there’s definite folk magic/beliefs in there with true believers that have Kylo avoiding it at all costs.

So Kylo’s ability to tread on “hallowed” ground is not based on the religion, but the beliefs, the methods, material, and intent- as well as that of the practitioners therein.

ANYWAY, this is long and full of digressions, but I hope that shed some light on Kylo’s abilities, weaknesses and approach to what is hallowed, and what isn’t!


	7. Bargain Struck, Bloodlines Muddied*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo cleans up his mess. A bargain is struck, but not to Kylo's liking, and retaliation follows- which results in revelations about Hux's bloodlines raise questions, and Kylo explains his origins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has graphic gore in it wherein Kylo devours a deceased human being, and Hux vomits in reaction to it. The beginning of the gore is indicated by **. To skip the gore, and vomiting, hit ctrl + F and input ***, which will jump you past it. (On mobile, this is under "find in/on page," usually by hitting the three dots/bars used for accessing your refresh/bookmark menu!) 
> 
> I will also implement this feature in future chapters for further gore and sexual content for those who wish to skip it. Any chapters that have this system will be marked with * in the chapter title. I want to create a safe reading experience for my readers ♥

Hux sat on the steps of the porch, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He pressed his forehead to his knees as he rocked back and forth, shaking. Rain fell on his form, soaking his robe and causing chills to seep into his bones. 

Across the yard, on the other side of the ward line, the massive hellhound sat on his haunches, his head hung low, water dripping from his bony snout and antlers, his fur soaked. His posture looked remorseful to any outsider, but Hux knew he was anything but. 

Between them, the body of Codi Lowall was twisted in the wet grass, her neck and limbs at awkward angles, her jaws open wide, teeth glinting in the porch light. 

“Why did you think I wanted this?” Hux asked, not lifting his head from his knees. 

His voice was weak, muffled against his legs, drowned out by the sound of rain, but Kylo was able to hear every word, and every ounce of emotional strain in his tone. The monstrous creature lifted his head, parted his jaws and let out a low whine. 

“You  _ said, _ ” he whimpered softly. “I heard you say it.”

Hux lifted his head finally to look the hellhound in the face, his bloodshot eyes meeting empty eye sockets. His brow furrowed in dismay. 

“Do you take everything any human says seriously, Kylo? Did you  _ honestly _ think I wanted her dead? Or what this might do to me, my business? People heard me talk to her, cancel her family’s appointment with my funeral home, they know we had an altercation, they  _ know she purposely misgendered and dead-named me  _ **_to cause me pain._ ** I will be a suspect in her death, I could go to jail for this, lose everything, because who is going to believe me if I tell them ‘no, officer, a  _ fucking ancient hellhound cursed to stalk my family line _ is the one who killed her’?” 

Hux rambled, his voice climbing in pitch, volume and speed until he was panting and practically gibbering and shrieking. All the while, Kylo edged as close as he dared to the wards, even testing his luck in trying to cross the line. His paw sizzled and smoked in the rain, and he yelped, pulling it back. 

“She hurt you,” he said quietly, dipping his head and parting his bony jaws to extend his long, grey-purple tongue to lick at his seared paw. 

“I don’t understand human gender, it’s changed a great deal over the centuries in how you present it, handle it, express it. It doesn’t matter to me, never has, but it’s always been important to humans. I know it’s important to  _ you,  _ or you wouldn’t have changed from the child you were when your grandfather was the one bound to me.”

Hux blinked, eyes wide and wet in the rain. 

“So you do remember me,” he said softly.

Kylo bobbed his skull in acknowledgement. 

“You’re bound to me by blood, of course I do. You can inject hormones into your body, let doctors give you surgeries, change your name, but your  _ blood _ is the same, and it is mine. It’s bound to me, owed to me, it  _ belongs to me. _ Your gender doesn’t change that.”

“So why only male heirs?” Hux demanded. “Why only pass on the curse to male offspring?”

“Because a woman bound me to curse the male descendants of the male that had her killed out of greed and spite. She didn’t want to hurt women like herself,” Kylo replied. 

“You denied yourself that identity for a long time, so I ignored you. I only bind to men, as the curse dictates. When you came home, as a man, in form, name and claim, I was bound to you.”

“So you didn’t notice me as a child, because I had not seized my own identity as a male Hux?” Hux asked- and he hated how his voice sounded hopeful. Why should validation from a monster who had killed human beings, and dragged one into his yard mean anything to him?

_ Because almost everyone in your life has refused to give it to you, deemed you as less than human. Of course validation would come from another non-human being. _

“Exactly. That, and I do not harm children. I cannot. Even a curse cannot cause me to harm children.”

“Bullshit,” Hux snapped, suddenly angry- how dare this monster lie to him, about this of all things? “I saw some of the entries, what they alluded to. You were  _ fed human children _ as part of your deal.”

“No. I was fed the bodies of children. I never killed them myself. I am a monster, I will not dispute that fact, but I do not. Harm. Children. I physically cannot do it. Don’t you think I would have been killing and devouring every Hux heir that was born, otherwise? It would have made it easier to end your line if I could have done so,” Kylo snapped right back, and the eye sockets blazed with flaring points of blood red light, his breath coming out in a thick fog. 

Hux drew back on the steps, his back hitting the screen door. Kylo’s intelligence, his reasoning, his conversational skills, his elegant and civil tones all made it so easy to look past his horrifying appearance, to forget he was an aberration from someplace unholy. 

“I’m sorry,” he said without thinking, and it hit him how odd it was, apologising to a monster for insulting its honour when it had brought the corpse of a former high school classmate onto his front yard- killed, to defend  _ his _ honour. 

“But you can’t just wantonly kill like this!” he added, before Kylo could answer. “What the  _ fuck _ do I do with this? This won’t just go away! You have really caused a storm to form over my head!”

Kylo tilted his head- too far, too much, and the angle was unsettling, unnatural- as was the crackling of his neck as he did so.

“It will, and I will shelter you from that storm,” he said softly. “I will make her go away, and make her look exactly like she went away, with no connection to you whatsoever.”

Before Hux could ask how, Kylo took a step forward, and ignoring the sizzling and smoking of his skull, his fur, his paws and legs, he dipped his head and closed his jaws around Codi’s body. He pulled back across the wards, the red of his eyes dimming in pain, and he settled down into the sodden grass on his belly, dropping the body between his front paws. 

He lowered his massive antlered skull and teeth slid into the dead woman’s clothing, ripping, tearing, and pulling it asunder from her twisted frame. In moments, the body was naked, and Kylo fixed Hux with a pointed stare. His sides rose and fell with his breath, steam roiling from his flanks, and his ears twitched, listening to the night around him.

Without warning, he opened his jaws, sank his teeth into Codi’s abdomen, and began to  _ feed.  _

  
  
  


**

  
  
  
  
  
  


The air was rent with the sound of flesh and skin tearing, of muscle ripping, and of bones cracking. The night was filled with the odours of iron, copper, salt and the unmistakable reek of ruptured bowels. Blood sprayed, bits of flesh splattered, and entire sections of viscera slopped onto the ground. 

Kylo rooted around in the ruined torso like a pig in a trough, grunting, growling and  _ purring _ in delight. His long tongue, strong and prehensile, sought out the more delicious parts, wrapped around them, and yanked them free of their biological moorings straight into his maw. 

Kidneys, liver, spleen, and pancreas were ripped from the torso and devoured with relish- particularly the pancreas. Kylo’s bony muzzle was stained red with blood and gore as he dug around in his kill, and pulled the stomach and entire intestinal tract out. With a flick of his head, he tossed the ruin offal to the ground, clearly not a fan of the digestive organs. 

“Humans have disgusting diets. The stomach, the bowels, they're repulsive, ” he said in revulsion, shaking his head and sending gore spraying everywhere as he rid himself of the offending residue.

Hux could only stare in frozen horror as he watched the monster feed on a human being he’d known in life like a wolf devouring a deer. His throat was dry, his heart pounding a staccato beat against too-tight ribs, and his eyes were so wide, his eyelids hurt. 

Kylo ran his long tongue over and around his muzzle, though it did little to clean up the gore, then burped- loudly, the sound echoing in his bare skull. He said nothing, and seized Codi’s chest between his teeth. There was an audible squishing, then sucking sound as a fang punctured a lung, and the remaining air rushed out. 

Hux wanted to close his eyes, to block out the horror he was seeing, but was unable to move- even breathing came with difficulty, his chest rising and falling rapidly, only capable of short, shallow breaths of terror. After growing up watching his father prepare the dead, after dressing deer during family hunts, he knew what was coming, the sounds he would hear, and he wasn’t ready, would never be ready.

The jaws closed around the ribcage, and with a  _ yank _ , Kylo pulled it apart, the sternum cracking like a thunderclap in the rainy night, the skin ripping, muscles parting and shredding as he rent the ribs open to expose the tender organs inside. His greedy jaws and tongue snatched up the heart, plucking it like a ripe fruit and tossing it back into his throat with relish. Another bite had the lungs pulled up and out by the bronchial tubes, and down his gullet. 

Hux finally found himself able to shut his eyes, but couldn’t block out the sound of Kylo feeding. 

How long it went on, he wasn’t sure, but once the organs were picked through- he’d even ripped out the uterus and ovaries, saved them for last- the cracking of bone began. Hux risked opening his eyes just in time to see the skull cracked like a nut, the brain removed, with the only evidence of it ever existing being the trails of dura mater stuck between Kylo’s teeth like webbing. 

Hux’s body finally cracked under the strain, and he leaned to the side and vomited. His stomach heaved all its contents onto the grass, and continued to heave until nothing but bitter bile and long strings of saliva ran from his mouth. He gasped for breath, his throat burning from stomach acid. 

When he looked up again, the upper body of the corpse was gone, the only evidence of it remaining was the spine hanging from Kylo’s jaws- which he was crunching on like a stick of candy. He gagged again, and spittle dribbled from his mouth. 

“Weak stomach, for someone who works in the field of death,” Kylo commented. 

He licked his bloody teeth before ripping the remaining muscles from the hips and thighs of the lower body still on the ground. The violent movements tilted the pelvis towards him, showing a gory, bloody empty pelvic cavity. Hux gagged, and his stomach heaved again. 

“The dead are not often devoured like animals in front of me,” he replied weakly, wiping his mouth. 

He closed his eyes as Kylo cracked open the pelvis, the femurs, and clenched his teeth against the new wave of gagging as he heard the sound of his tongue scraping the insides of the bones to get to the marrow. He wasn’t sure if it was the bone or his tongue that was making the rough sound.

“Would you… would you just finish?” Hux asked, voice quavering.

“Weak human,” Kylo huffed, his words followed by the sound of crunching bones and rending flesh, the wet sound of blood gushing between teeth and bone. He swallowed loudly, and let out another loud, echoing belch. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Hux let out a shaking breath and uncovered his face with trembling hands- he hadn’t even realised he’d placed his hands over his face. They were clammy and cold from sweat and rain. 

Kylo was lounging like a drowsy wolf, hips on their side, legs pointed to the front. His belly, which had been lean when Hux last looked at him, was bulging with his horrifying meal. His sides rose and fell gently with his contented breathing, his tongue lolling out between his skeletal jaws. 

He was grooming himself- rubbing his bloody muzzle on the wet grass. He licked at his paws, and rubbed at his thick mane with his claws. All the while, a low, rumbling churr issued from his throat. 

“You’re a monster,” Hux managed. Kylo laughed. 

“I know this, Sebastian. You don’t need to tell me what I already know about myself.”

Hux stood up and moved on wobbly legs towards the ward lines. Kylo paused in mid-lick, lowering his paw and pulling his tongue back into his mouth. He twitched an ear at Hux, tilting his head and watching him approach. Hux stopped right out of reach, and flopped bonelessly onto his ass on the ground. He stared into Kylo’s face, his face haggard in the shadows. 

“What are you, Kylo?” he whispered. 

The hellhound shifted from a lounging position to a more regal resting stance. He considered Hux for a long moment, who realised that the rain was slowing. The storm was letting up. 

“That’s a question none of your relations have asked me in all the centuries I’ve haunted your legacy,” he said softly. 

Hux was unnerved as he saw that Kylo’s jaws were unmoving while he spoke. It was the first time he’d been close to Kylo in his true form while he spoke. He swallowed. An idea was brewing in his mind, spurred by the cold weight in his robe pocket- the tooth. He didn't remember slipping it into his pocket, but it was giving him an idea.  


He just had to get Kylo talking.

“None? I find that hard to believe,” he said, and shifted his position, inching forward a microscopic bit as he did so. Kylo didn’t react, but Hux remained still. He’d risk another scoot in a bit. 

“None. They all asked what kind of monster I was in the heat of anger, of fear. None of them asked in a manner you possess, with a clear desire to know,” he observed. 

“I was good once, you know.”

Hux blinked in surprise, and his toes curled involuntarily in the mud and grass. It was cold and wet between his toes, and it kept him grounded, alert. 

“Good? How?”

A low, soft rumble from his throat had the ground vibrating beneath Hux, and up through his bones. He shuddered, trying to ignore the feeling it caused in his hips. 

“I was a … what is the term I can use in English that translates….,” he pondered, head canting to the side and rumbled again, thinking. 

“I was a guardian. Of sorts. I came into existence far longer than I can remember, but I do remember it was in dark woods with hidden paths and twisting trails, of ancient trees and air so clean and wild it had flavour like a rich wine, each scent telling stories one could only hope to understand the summary of. The trees were bent and curved, or were jagged and wild, like the teeth of my skull, and the whispers of wind and movement of the wild between them varied as much as their shapes.”

His voice was nostalgic, wistful, almost mournful, and Hux could almost hear the creaking of untamed branches in his words. 

“Where were these forests?” Hux asked, unable to stop himself. He leaned forward, scooting closer imperceptibly as he did so. The woods in the South were nothing like what Kylo described- not now, in any case.

“The land had no name, no sovereignty when I first tread across it. The woods were dark, deep, stretched for miles with towering trees that hid creatures big and small, timid and dangerous. We all shared the forest as our home.”

He looked at Hux, who shivered in his damp robe. The rain had stopped, but he was still wet, and drained from his distress, his bout of revulsion at Kylo’s feeding. He had to know, though- about where Kylo came from, what he was, so that he might have a better idea of how to bargain, come to an armistice with this creature. 

“First, it was called Wallachia, and now, you humans call it Romania, and call the forest Hoia Baciu.”

Hux had never heard of Hoia Baciu, but he was confused as to how Kylo had come from Romania to the Southern United States, and he opened his mouth to say as much, but Kylo flattened his ears in annoyance. 

“I’ll get to it, curious human,” he growled, though there was no venom in his voice. 

“I hunted as I wished, ran wild through the forests, and lived my life without tethers of any sort- I was free, and no human commanded me. For the longest time, for the earlier half of my life, I never knew what humans were.”

A sigh through the open nasal cavity, the breath whistling through the intricate turbinates, and Hux could smell the scent of his meal on the hot breath. It made his stomach churn, but it was done trying to empty itself, worn out and sore, so it merely churned in complaint. 

“I saw my first humans close to ten thousand years ago, and my first sighting of them had me compelled, confused… even frightened, for nothing had ever moved on two legs before- not without a tail, or wings.”

Hux gaped at him.

“Ten- ten  **_thousand_ ** years?” he sputtered in disbelief. Surely he was exaggerating!

“You heard me.”

Kylo shifted back into a lounging position, getting comfortable, then gave Hux a pointed look.

“You’re shivering. You’re wet. Cold.”

Hux wasn’t sure he wanted to leave, not when Kylo was being candid, open and informative about himself without the posturing and cloying attempts to lure him close. 

“Go get warm clothes on. I will wait. This has been a long time in coming.”

“No. I’ll dry,” Hux said, adamant. “I know sunlight bothers you. I won’t waste time. I want- I need to know.”

Kylo made a pleased, slightly surprised churr, and shifted closer. Hux willed himself not to flinch, and was proud when he managed it- Kylo was  _ so  _ **_big_ ** , and being close only put his size into perspective. It was like sitting on the ground next to a motorhome. 

“I was scared,” he admitted. “I was, at the time, a skittish forest spirit, and these new creatures were unlike anything I’d ever seen. I fled deeper into the woods, as did many of my kind, and we avoided them. They themselves seemed frightened of the woods, of the twisted trees and evidence of our living in them. For centuries- millennia- we kept our distance, as did they, though as they developed, began to cut down trees for their shelters, they slowly pushed us deeper and deeper into the heart of the forests they feared.”

Kylo made a motion with his head, a sound issued from between his teeth, and Hux had the mental image, the impression, of a wolf snarling and baring its teeth. 

“The humans caught sight of us from time to time, and were horrified, scared for their lives. Some of us… were massive things, dangerous things, and our home was slowly shrinking as their territory spread and devoured ours.”

He looked to the side, and Hux knew he was looking away from him, even if an eye socket was still facing directly at him. He took the opportunity to take another microscopic move closer.

“Legends didn’t die because of science, or humans learning better, or imagination making way for new ideas,” he said softly, sadly, his voice thick with emotion. 

“They died because their homes were destroyed, and they had to adapt, evolve, or go extinct. That, or they were killed by humans too afraid to coexist.” 

“What sort of legends?” Hux whispered. 

“Things you’d call monsters. Some things you’d even call gods. Some things without names because there were no terms humans could find to give them, or there was no time to name them before they died. I knew them as kith and kin. I knew them, because they are gone. I cannot know something that is dead, only say that I knew it.”

Hux heard the grief, the anger, the sorrow in Kylo’s voice.  _ I’m sorry, _ he wanted to say, but how pointless, how empty, how thoughtless and meaningless those two words were- a two word apology from a mortal creature with a may-fly’s lifespan to a timeless, primordial being who’d seen the extinction of so many?

“They called me many things. Pricolici. Marțolea. Căpcăun. Vârcolac. Most pointed at my preferred form, which was a massive canine similar to my cousins, the wolves. I was larger, pure black, with green eyes, and my teeth glittered like stars in my mouth. When humans began to target wolves out of their fear for me, I retaliated, and attacked humans that hunted wolves.”

“Vârcolac… those are werewolves, right?” Hux asked, remembering the term from a novel-turned-video-game. “How did they get shape-shifting out of you looking like a wolf? And… did you not have the… “

He motioned with his hands above his head to mimic Kylo’s antlers. Kylo actually let out a snort that sounded like a chuckle.

“I was simply a canid creature of massive size because I was a massive spirit. I chose to be canid because I respected and admired wolves most of all. They were loyal, fierce, dependable, and indomitable. Truth be told, Sebastian, I do not remember the form I was born in, only what I preferred, and once I’d become comfortable, I saw no reason to go back. I know you can relate.”

Despite himself, Hux smiled. He could, all too well. 

“I learned their language, learned to communicate, and took on their form. I attempted to tell them the wolves meant no harm, that the beings of the forests wanted to be left alone, and would leave them alone in return.”

Kylo showed the first real signs of regret, remorse, emotional pain Hux had seen- real, compared to the charade he’d played at up until then. Hux had no idea how a skull could show remorse, grief, regret, but at that moment, it was all over Kylo’s bare face.

“They called me a witch, a being of evil, attempted to capture and kill me- and I reverted to my canid form to escape. That’s when the names began, and the hunts became regular. That’s when I began to kill humans in earnest, but only when they came into my forest with the intent to harm.”

“You were a protector of the forest, of your animal and… other kin. There is no evil in that,” Hux said, mistaking Kylo’s regret for the incident as remorse for killing humans. 

“No. My evil was attempting to make peace with humans, and expose my kith and kin to the fearing gaze of simple minded two-legged monsters.”

Hux had nothing to say to that, and Kylo went on after a heavy silence. 

“Eventually, I withdrew to the darkest, wildest, deepest reaches of the forests, and protected my territory, though encounters with humans were rare, so deep in the woods was I. My appearance, slowly altered to terrify humans, had also been enough to frighten many away by rumour alone- I was massive, with a pelt that had thorns spread throughout, teeth that glittered like silver, and breath that always steamed- sometimes even sparked like fire.”

“A hellhound.”

“A hellhound,” Kylo confirmed. 

“However, I met my first group of humans that were not afraid of me, because they simply had never heard of me. They were outcasts, too. It was sometime in the fifteenth century that I first saw them near the borders of my slowly shrinking forest,” Kylo continued.

Hux didn’t know much history about Romania-then-Wallachia, let alone what happened in the 1400’s. He had no idea who these people could be. 

“A poor, ragged group. Dirty, hungry, frightened, and carrying everything with them, or in wagons, on litters, their backs. Despite their fear, there was spirit in them, defiance in their eyes, and loyalty was thick between them. They were like wolves themselves- indomitable, loyal, and  _ free _ . But most importantly, they were scared of the other humans that I was vigilant against. They ducked and hid in my forests when they were in sight.”

He grew quiet for a moment.

“I wondered at them, and hid in the shadows, listening, watching. I learned they were newly freed people, escaped from slavery, and seeking lives for themselves and their children. There were only fifteen of them, and from what I learned, they’d escaped from a conqueror who’d taken thousands of them as slaves- a man history would remember as Vlad Dracul, father of the infamous Vlad Tepes. Some had escaped during the trek across Wallachia, and scattered to increase their odds of success and survival.”

Hux was agog. Vlad Tepes. Kylo was really that old? He made a despondent sound in his chest, and Kylo grunted in agreement.

“They were scared and wanted a new life. They were tired, hungry, and had no home. Despite this, they didn’t turn on one another, but leaned into each other’s support. They still found reason to laugh, and sing- sounds I’d never heard before from humans, and sounds I found I loved. They hunted, and always used everything of their kills, and they always shared their food with one another, even those unable to contribute to the creation of the meals.”

Kylo tilted his head back and looked to the sky, clearly reminiscing fondly about the people he’d admired.

“One of them saw me, lurking near their camp, but was not afraid of me. We locked eyes, and she spoke to me. A simple reassurance that it was okay, and she wouldn’t hurt me. Perhaps she thought I was just a curious wolf. I still retreated into the woods. Dawn was near, and I’d learned daylight meant I was easier to see. Darkness gave me safety.

“The next night, I returned to the edge of the woods, and saw a chunk of meat hanging from the branches of a tree. I immediately thought of the traps, the poisoned bait left to kill wolves, and tore it down in anger, tossed it towards the camp, and fled.”

Hux tilted his head. 

“If they were poor, and it was all they had, and they had worked for it, surely it was a gift?”

Kylo nodded.

“I learned that later, when I returned a few days later. Curiosity overwhelmed me when none of them came after me, or the wolves, and their hunting remained respectful, careful, almost reverent. They left no obvious destruction of plants or trees when passing through the forest like the others. They truly respected life and other living things.

“There was another chunk of meat, on a stump this time- they’d cut down a tree, and left a large cut of flank on the stump. I approached, careful, and saw her, watching me. The same human who’d told me she meant no harm. She did a strange thing with her mouth- it curved upwards, and she bared her teeth. I thought she was warning me to leave, but then she made the sound I liked- she laughed. And she said ‘A gift, to say thank you for the tree you allowed us to cut down to build with.’ She bowed, and left to join her people by the fire.”

Kylo licked his teeth, and clicked his jaws. 

“I tasted the meat, for I knew if I didn’t, a wolf might. I could not die- I’d learned this the hard way when consuming poisoned meat with a lone wolf I’d liked. He had died, and I had not. The meat was pure, untouched, save for the handling of those who’d butchered it and left it out for me- and even then, I didn’t taste filth, sweat or even human skin. They’d washed their hands before handling the meat to leave out for me.”

Hux nodded- in the early years of humanity, only a few sub-cultures of humanity took hygiene seriously, and often that hygiene was seen as an oddity by majorities. 

“It was good meat. Tender- they’d tenderised it for me with clean hands and tools before leaving it out for me. An honest, good gift, an offering of peace, and it filled me with hope that not all the two-legged creatures were evil.

“I thought a while about engaging, of thanking them, and decided it best to take a non threatening form. I took the form of an enormous, solid black stag with raking antlers, emerged from the woods and into the camp.”

“Were you not afraid they’d think of you as potential prey as a stag?” Hux asked. Kylo shook his head.

“It was a test. Should they move to hunt me, I would leave them to fend for themselves. Should they fear me, I would leave them be so as not to cause them any more fear. Mostly, I hoped they would see me as a friend, or at the least, a benevolent force.

“The camp fell silent- they were alarmed at my size, but were not afraid. I took a risk, and I spoke with them. There was shock at hearing me speak, but they made no move against me. Perhaps the woman had told them of me already. I told them I appreciated how they were not hateful, how they were respectful, kind. I told them of my experience with humans before their family arrived, and the loss of life I had suffered- and dealt.”

“Did they fear you then?” Hux whispered, giving another forward scoot. He was almost at the edge of the wards now. His robe pocket was heavy against his thigh. 

“Oddly, they understood. They knew what it was like to be hurt because they were misunderstood. They knew the pain of being removed from their home because a more dominant force refused to coexist in peace,” Kylo replied.

“We had an understanding, common ground, and I felt a protective kinship over these rare, special humans. And in the firelight that winter night, under a new moon, I made a vow.

“I vowed that as long as they respected the outcast, the unusual, the misunderstood, and had respect for the forest, for the life it contained, I in return would protect their family, their bloodline, from injustice at the hands of other humans, would do my best to bring them luck and fortune.”

Hux suddenly understood what this was leading to, and his gut twisted in a way that had nothing to do with his previous exertions. Sorrow lanced his heart as he understood that somehow, a creature born to protect, born to be  _ free _ had become twisted, and now was imprisoned to do harm. 

“I became Dimos-Devlesko. Godsend. A spirit who protected the legacy of these people, and would protect each new generation- an inheritance of luck and protection. In return, they lived consciously, generously, and with respect for the world that provided for them. During the day, no longer needing to hide, I was a white stag who watched from the forest. During the night, I was a black wolf who ran through the trees, patrolling the woods for threats- and I howled a song of family and love to the moon with the wolves. When they were threatened, I defended them. When they were forced to move, I went with them. They told stories about me over the years, left me choice cuts of meat, and I was welcome at every celebration, because I was family, and at every funeral, to say goodbye.”

“What happened, Kylo?” Hux asked. “How did you get here, and become… this?” 

“They eventually moved across the ocean for a better life. I followed, hiding in the eldest’s shadow. It’s how I worked- the eldest of the family would be my bondmate, and I would be ‘inherited’ by their eldest child upon their death.”

“Similar to how you work now,” Hux pointed out, and Kylo nodded his antlered head.

“Over the next few years, they found acceptance with other families, and learned to trust. They expanded their family, their small insular culture, and life was good. I also learned to like this new world, though my heart yearned for the forests of the land I was born in- a land I learned was named Wallachia by the humans, and later would merge with Moldova to become Romania. The names meant little to me, I only loved the woods, not the human settlements.”

“You don’t like America?” Hux asked.

“It’s beautiful, but it isn’t home,” Kylo said simply. “The air tastes different, the soil doesn’t embrace my feet, the meat has different textures, and the water isn’t as sweet- it’s sharper, almost cunning. Also, I am not a spirit of this land. I am an outsider, an intruder, and this land, it wasn't mine. It was good, but not what I knew. I was homesick, but as long as I had my family, I would be content.”

Hux said nothing as Kylo fell silent, and made a final move to the very edge of the invisible line drawn by the buried iron spikes in the earth. The tooth in his pocket was cold and heavy. 

“The last generation had a new name, but the same blood. I watched over this generation, helped cultivate the land- that had actually been purchased fairly, without cheating or bloodshed. It was blessed, it was fair, it was good. Even a local protective spirit of the land willingly gave her blessing for me to take her place as guardian when my family moved in. 

“And then… your ancestors happened. My family was killed- my bondmate, and her daughters. She was hung, and her daughters were poisoned so they couldn’t claim the land. And in her pain, in her desperation for vengeance, she begged, beseeched, and bound me to wreak havoc upon the bloodline that had destroyed a long line with such a rich heritage. It was wrong, it was dark, it went against my nature- but I was compelled by the oath I made nearly four centuries prior.”

Kylo lowered his head to the ground and covered his bony forehead with his forepaws, his ears drooping. 

“I was compelled, and I answered the call. It twisted me between night and day into a twilight of myself. Torn asunder between the protective stag of day, and the vengeful wolf of night, of the vitality of life, and the desolation of death. I was twisted and warped into an amalgamation of both, into what you see before you now,” he all but whispered. 

“The demand to seek vengeance is all I know. To cause pain on those with your blood is my calling, and I cannot ignore it.”

He moved a paw from his face, and the blood red eye flared to life, staring at Hux, who, he realised without acknowledging it aloud, was close enough to snap up into his jaws. 

“And yet…”

“Yet, what?” Hux whispered, his heart pounding. His hand had slid into his pocket. He’d only have one chance at this, and he needed it to work if he wanted any sort of chance at being civil with this tormented creature. 

This tormented creature he was feeling sorry for, and was feeling guilty that he had to do what he was about to do. 

“Yet I cannot harm you, and it is not because of the wards and charms, the salt, silver and witch bottles, the haint blue paint and hot foot powder. Those are annoying and painful, but given enough incentive, would not hold me back for long. No, something else prevents me from ripping you asunder, Sebastian Armitage Hux.” 

Hux didn’t ask how he knew his middle name- he undoubtedly learned it when he wrote it in the book in his own blood. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t know, and it infuriates me. I don’t like unknowns, anomalies, and you are both.”

Kylo sighed and covered his face again with his massive paws- and Hux lashed out with the tooth. 

A roar, loud enough to temporarily deafen Hux’s mortal ears, and shake the ground with its volume, exploded from Kylo’s jaws as the tooth opened a gash in his foreleg. His fur stood on end, turning him into a damp ball of fur and wide gaping jaws that would have been almost comical, had it not been for the red eyes that filled empty eye sockets, burning as bright as headlights. 

Hux immediately scuttled backwards from the roaring hellhound, and before his nerve could fail him, used the bloody tooth to gash open his palm. Kylo fell silent immediately as Hux closed his palm around the tooth, and their blood mingled. 

“I’m sorry,” Hux panted, feeling the burn of Kylo’s other-worldly blood invading his veins. 

“I didn’t think you’d willingly try this, and I only had one shot. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn't think you'd agree to it,” Hux babbled. His veins _burned_. The blood was so cold it felt like fire under his skin.  


Kylo eyed him, his ears flattened, jaws slightly parted to emphasise the sharpness of his teeth, all of his fur puffed out to its fullest. His claws ripped furrows in the mud, and he was crouched in a lunge, ready to leap at him, wards be damned. His eyes burned like fires in his skull, and his breath was as thick as smoke as he panted in rage. 

“ **_YOU.”_ ** Kylo rumbled, his voice back to that horrifying timbre, the mix of animal sounds he’d heard that night by the kitchen door, but Hux knew it was deserved. He’d attacked Kylo when he was being open, vulnerable, and trying to fight his twisted nature by being good. 

“You…”

Hux stared, watching, as Kylo’s fur flattened, his ears pricked forward curiously, and his posture turned to cautious interest. He came right to the line and tilted his head. 

“Let me smell,” he demanded. 

Without thinking, Hux thrust out his gashed hand. He was far enough to stay out of reach, but Kylo could still get a good whiff from where he stood. The hellhound scented the air, his muzzle tilting upward as air whistled through his turbinates, the smell curling and collecting in the intricate whorls of bone. He danced nervously on his feet, taking a few steps back, his tail tucking between his legs and ears lowering. 

“You… you have the blood in your veins. Their blood- and his.”

His voice was a confused whine, and Hux  _ felt _ the bewildered confusion thrum through his body. 

“Whose?” he asked, but he had the feeling he already knew.

“Hers. Theirs. The ones I bound myself to all those years ago.”

He whined, low and long, a plaintive, pleading sound. 

“May… may I taste?”

Hux hesitated. 

“Can I trust you?”

“I trusted you,” Kylo retorted, and Hux winced. 

“If I’m right… I won’t be able to hurt you, anyway.”

Hux took a deep breath, and steeling himself, stepped over the ward line, a breath away from Kylo’s muzzle. He held up his hand, the gashed palm out, and waited, trembling in his soaked, muddy robe. Blood ran down his arm and into his sleeve. 

Kylo hesitated, clearly warring with something inside him- his frame trembled, his jaws parted with a creak, and drool began to pour from between his teeth. His fur bristled, and Hux could hear him panting with the desire to attack, but something kept him frozen in place. 

“Well?” Hux asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. 

Kylo’s tongue stuck out, and curled over Hux’s palm. His tongue was cool, wet, and prehensile, with a smooth, slick underside, and a textured top. It was wide, mostly similar to a canine’s tongue, but with a much more pointed tip. Kylo brushed the flat of his tongue over the bleeding wound, then flexed it into a cupped shape, letting the blood collect over his taste buds before pulling it all back into his mouth. 

His throat bobbed, swallowing, and Kylo…

_ Took a step backward and sat down. _

No anger, no fury. Only a resignation to something Hux didn’t understand. 

“You have her blood in your veins- the blood of the one who bound and twisted me from protector to destroyer,” Kylo said in wonder. “I thought I'd smelled it the first night you arrived, but I assumed I was mistaken, because how could that be? Yet.. Here you are. You are… like me. An amalgamation of good and evil. The bloodline of a family of good, loyal people, and that of bad, greedy people.”

“Hux and Benson?”

“Benson was her mated name, but yes, her line, and the Hux line, both in your veins.”

The red eyes narrowed.

“How?”

Hux swallowed.

“My mother. Maratelle Hux. She wasn’t my mother. She couldn’t bear a child to term, so she and my father used a surrogate. I don’t know who she was.”

Kylo’s tail flopped back and forth in agitation. He didn’t like the fact that he didn’t have knowledge of Hux’s origins- he’d so fastidiously tracked and monitored, cursed and haunted this bloodline for over three hundred years, and now, the last of them was before him with his ward’s blood in his veins. 

“Now what?” Hux asked, his hand burning and tingling, Kylo’s saliva itchy in his wound, his blood icy and burning under his skin. 

“Now, we bargain, seeing as you’ve given me no alternative,” Kylo snarled, settling back into a resting position. 

“I don’t want to fight you- I can’t win,” Hux said bluntly. “I understand that if we bargain, I am allowed to live my life, and you can claim it at the end of my lifespan, provided I give you something in return. I’d like to make some kind of amicable agreement, so we can coexist in peace.”

Kylo just stared at him.

“So what do you want from me?” Hux asked. “What can I offer you- that isn’t my life?”

“You don’t understand, Sebastian,” Kylo growled. “I cannot take your life now, not with that blood in your veins. I couldn’t harm you if I wanted to.”

Hux blinked.

“So now what?”

“I can only claim you when you die- and I cannot be the cause of it. In fact, I understand why I killed that human now. I am just as compelled to protect you as I am to destroy you.”

He stared Hux down.

“And you, Sebastian, just made a huge mistake by putting my blood in your veins.”

Hux scuttled back as Kylo got to his feet and advanced- right over the ward line. No sizzling, no smoking, no signs of pain were seen as Kylo approached, and was on top of Hux in a few paces. He placed a massive paw on Hux’s chest, pinning him down flat in the mud. He lowered his muzzle so it was touching Hux’s mouth, fangs brushing over his lips. Fetid breath rushed over him, hot and damp, reeking of gore. 

Hux shook, and to his shame, found himself losing control of his bladder for the second time since meeting the monster. Kylo snorted in amusement, and his jaws parted, tongue lolling out. He dragged his paw down to Hux’s stomach, which pulled the robe open, exposing his chest, and drool dripped onto his skin. 

“What are you- you said you couldn’t hurt me-” Hux began, then froze as Kylo ran his tongue over the scars under each of his pectoral muscles. The hellhound churred and made another pass over the scars, the rumbling vibrating through Hux’s chest. 

“What…” he panted, terrified and confused. 

Kylo stared into his face. 

“You are a tenacious creature,” Kylo said softly, and slowly, his form turned to smoke and vapour, shrinking, twisting and whirling above Hux’s supine form. A moment later, Hux found the young man straddling his hips, his large, long fingered hands resting on his chest and stomach. His fingers were black, and ended in long, wicked claws- and one was bleeding freely onto Hux’s chest from a gash on the back of his wrist.

Kylo looked down at him with dark, glittering eyes, full lips pursed and twisted in a smirk, his mane of thick dark hair falling around his face- and against Hux’s cheeks, as his face was mere inches from his own. 

That scent was surrounding him again. A scent that reminded him of rot and decay beneath layers of water or fallen leaves, yet was rich and sensuous, seductive and delicious all at once. Not like food, but tantalising, of something that wasn’t edible, that one  _ knew _ wasn’t edible, but wanted it anyway, craved it. 

Hux didn’t know what to do. Kylo’s beautiful human face was so close to his, his scent in his nose, his hair on his cheeks, his blood on his chest and his weight on his hips, pressing him into the wet earth and cold damp grass. 

“How did you cross the wards?” Hux finally asked.

Kylo took Hux’s hand, claws pricking his skin gently, and lifted the sliced palm to his plush lips. His tongue flicked out and over the wound, pulling Hux’s blood into his mouth, and Hux tried not to gasp at the cold, soft wetness of Kylo’s mouth, his tongue on his flesh. Kylo purred and suckled at the cut. 

“You let me in when you introduced my blood into your veins.”

“What do you want?” Hux asked again, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

Kylo’s eyes softened, becoming wide and imploring. 

“We cannot kill each other, and I am bound to you until you die… I don’t know what will happen to me when you finally do. I… would rather not spend that time harassing and tormenting you, not when I know I am technically bound and sworn to do good for you.”

He lowered Hux’s hand, claws gently trailing over Hux’s forearm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. 

“Give me your companionship. I have been… so lonely these past centuries. Grant me that?”

Hux blinked up at Kylo, surprised. 

“You… you want me to be your friend?”

Kylo hummed an affirmative, his face coming closer to Hux’s. Hux felt his heart rate skyrocket, a jolt of electricity shooting between his hips and up his spine- Kylo’s scent was all around him, equal parts horrifying and overwhelmingly delicious. He was repulsed, and drawn in, and the diametrically opposing feelings had his head spinning. 

Without thinking, Hux took Kylo by the wrist, and pressed his gashed palm to Kylo’s slit wrist. Kylo gaped, fangs flashing between his lips, jerking violently as their blood mingled. He wrenched his hand away, but he knew it was too late. 

Their blood had mingled, and was in each other’s veins. 

Kylo recoiled from Hux, falling backwards onto the ground. His face was the picture of shock, his lovely hair falling aside, full mouth open, expressive eyes wide. 

“What have you  _ done _ ?” Kylo whispered, then, again, more loudly, “What have you  **_done_ ** ?”

“I already did it, with my hand, why is it any different with your arm?” Hux asked, confused.

“You can’t- did you even think- this cannot be reversed!” Kylo sputtered. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I would if you’d  _ tell me _ !” Hux shot back, still sprawled in the mud. He could feel Kylo’s anger, his unease, a thrum, a tugging in his veins, and the implications did not escape him. 

Kylo was on him in an instant, a whirl of smoke and vapour as the hellhound reappeared. The muzzle of bone and fangs snapped inches from his face.

“Tu manush dilo,” he growled. “Kako nashti avel phutèrdyol. Ame trayil, ame merel, kêthane.”

He pushed off of Hux, and stalked away- but not before taking a very angry swipe at Hux’s beloved car, slicing through the left side tires. There was a pop, a hiss, and the Phantom jolted, sagging to the left as if it were sinking in the mud. 

Hux stared at him, confused and overwhelmed as Kylo disappeared into the depths of the slaughterhouse. He had spent the entire evening watching- and suffering the consequences of- the hellhound devour someone he knew, heard revelations of the creature’s past, then bonded his blood with him, all while rising and crashing between abject terror, shame at losing control of his body, outright fascination- and even a bit of confused arousal from the close encounter. 

What had Kylo said? What did he mean? And why could Hux  _ feel _ him, and his mood? 

He really, truly, had not thought this through. 

His ancestor had recorded how mingling their blood in a phial had created an armistice of sorts, but the tincture had faded and lost effectiveness. Hux, seeking to skip that entirely, had decided to be the container himself, and introduce the hellhound’s blood directly into his veins. That, he knew, had not been what set Kylo off. It had been pressing his own wound to the gash in his arm, and introducing his human blood to Kylo’s. 

He understood Kylo would be angry, having the blood of his enemy bound to his, but what did he mean? What had he said? What language was that he’d spoken? And why,  _ why  _ had he taken it out on his precious, sweet, unoffensive car?

Hux struggled to his feet, slipping in the mud, the grass, blood and urine. Disgusted, he stripped out of the robe and his soiled boxer briefs there in the yard, standing naked in the early morning darkness.

Unable to control himself, overwhelmed, overstimulated, he tilted his head back, opened his mouth wide, and  _ screamed.  _ He let his lungs expel all the anxiety, the fear, frustration, confusion, the upset and the anger into the night air until they were empty. He took a deep breath and screamed again. And again, until his throat ached, and his chest heaved. 

All the while, Kylo watched from the shadows. He gazed at the lean, pale form of the human who was now irrevocably bound to him, their blood thrumming through each other’s veins. Hux was so lean, so pale, so delicate, but his voice was strong and defiant, and it had all the emotion and wild fury of every wolf he’d ever howled with. 

He liked this human, and he hated that he liked this human. Humans were like flames- they burned brilliantly, but went out quickly. Beautiful, bright, but volatile and short lived- and easy to snuff out. They also had the propensity to consume themselves, burn out, or burn everything in their path. 

But this one… now he would live forever, and it was a crime against nature. He was a being of this world, meant to die, meant to return to the earth so that another might rise in his place and perpetuate the never-ending cycle. But now, due to his ignorance, his arrogance, his very human nature that was an indomitable will to survive and adapt, he never would. 

The blood of a spirit, of a monster, had been introduced to his veins, and his living, vibrant blood had been introduced to Kylo’s veins. Blood with mortality, with life, with the fire of humanity burned through his veins and set little sparks burning throughout his cold, immortal form. No doubt Hux was feeling pricks of ice, of the immovable, immortal, unchanging blood of the hellhound leaving its mark through his warm, fragile body. 

He watched Hux scream, and gazed at the man’s body. He’d worked hard to perfect the shell in which he lived, to make it home and not a prison- exercise had trimmed his muscles lean and firm, hormones had coaxed his body fat to move to different parts of his body and shaped his face. Surgery had removed what was undesirable, what had marked him by human society as what he was not, leaving scars that were beautiful, marks of triumph over nature itself. 

Kylo tried to ignore how Hux reeked of fear, of frustration, mud, blood and urine. How the human had wet himself in fear of him, how he’d lost basic control of his body in fear of his life. The first time he’d caused that reaction, Kylo had been delighted- it was what he lived for, tormenting the Hux line. Now? With Hux’s blood inside him, mixed with the Benson line, the ancient line he’d protected for so long, he felt only shame and self loathing for what he’d done. 

Kylo wanted to approach. To comfort him, to wrap his body around Hux’s, to give reassurance with his fur against soft skin, to lick the tears rolling down Hux’s face as he screamed. He wanted to take his human form and hug him close, to press his lips to Hux’s nose, his forehead, his cheeks, and tell him he was sorry. 

He’d done enough the past few months. He had to give the man room. Their newly forged bond was going to take some getting used to, and there would be growing pains as the implications, the realisations of exactly what Hux had done set in. 

The implications, the consequences were already obvious to Kylo- he wanted to protect and nurture, to comfort and reassure this human. 

His human. His new bondmate. 

Hux would realise that soon enough, and he knew that, watching as Hux picked up his soiled clothes and disappeared into the house. His sharp ears heard the starting of the shower inside, the old pipes groaning as their restored joints and valves let the shower run. 

With Hux back inside, he took his human form and quietly, carefully, leapt onto the roof. He sat beside Hux’s bedroom window, ready to wait out the rest of the night close by, should he be needed. 

His nostrils flared as he scented Hux leaving the shower, the smell of warm clean skin, steam, amber and black currant soap. He heard him pad across the floor with damp bare feet, down the stairs and into the laundry room. The washing machine started- with the filthy clothes in it, no doubt- and Hux came back upstairs. Hux removed the towel, releasing more of his clean, warm scent into the air, and tousled his hair with the towel before tossing it aside on the floor and falling into bed heavily. 

Kylo listened, smelling the air, inhaling his scent, and wishing he could crawl into that warm nest of blankets and pillows, curl around Hux and whisper how sorry he was, how it was going to be okay, that he didn’t have to be afraid anymore- at least, not of him. 

“Go away,” he heard Hux snarl, muffled by the nest of his bed. Kylo blinked owlishly. Hux already could sense his proximity through their new bond. 

“You knew,” he said simply, not moving from where he sat by the window. 

“I can  _ feel  _ you,” came the reply. “Just… leave me alone, Kylo. I’m too tired to continue this.”

“ _ You  _ did this,” Kylo replied, but his tone was not unkind- it was tired. 

“And you killed someone, ate them in front of me, mocked me for being sick, terrified me, made me piss myself, and on top of that,  _ you mutilated my car. _ ” 

Kylo snorted. 

“You can’t mutilate something that isn’t alive. I vandalised it… and I am sorry. I was angry, and I didn’t want to hurt anything living, so I clawed your car.”

Hux sighed, and Kylo heard him roll over onto his back. 

“Now what?” It was an oft repeated question this evening. 

“Now, we are bonded. Similar to how I was bonded to the Bensons, to the family I originally vowed my protection to. I am bound by oath to protect that blood, but in equal parts, I am bound to destroy the other half of your blood. I cannot harm you, but I am driven to. And now, since you have blended your blood and mine…”

He trailed off, unsure how to explain what this entailed. 

“I don’t know. Not entirely. But we will see in time,” he finished. 

Hux sighed again. 

“I just wanted to be able to have peace with you. I didn’t want to harm either of us.”

“I know.”

Kylo hesitated. He wanted to ask to come in, to sit beside him, to be able to see him, smell the full range of his scent, perhaps even to touch him, but he didn’t dare. He could feel how raw and vulnerable, how frightened Hux still was. 

“I’m sorry, Kylo.”

The three words felt good on his ears, in his mind, in his heart. None of them had ever said  _ I’m sorry, Kylo, _ before, and it was… it was good. 

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

Hux groaned, and the dark room lit up with the light of his cell phone. 

“Who are you calling at four am?” Kylo asked, bewildered.

“I’m not. I’m emailing a mechanic to come and replace these tires.”

“You trust me to let someone come onto the property?”

“I trust this one, because Maz said she’s… special. I trust Maz’s judgement.”

Kylo huffed in irritation, leaning against the window gable. Maz. Infuriating, busy-body, meddling, Maz. 

“I will behave,” Kylo promised. “I will.”

“You’d better,” Hux growled. “You don’t need to lurk out there, I know sunlight bothers you. Go to bed, Kylo.”

There was the rustling of blankets, and Kylo risked peering in the window to see a lump under the duvet, Hux completely out of sight. He hazarded a guess that the human was folded into a tight foetal position, and another pang of guilt stabbed through him. He pressed his nose to the crack between window and sill- Hux hadn’t replaced the old windows just yet- and inhaled deeply, pulling Hux’s scent, the smell of his bed, his wet towel, his clothes from that day, all into his nose. He held it deep in his turbinates, committing it to memory, savouring it, devouring it.

“Good night, Sebastian.”

There was a considerable moment of silence as Kylo got up, then-

“Good night, Kylo.”

Kylo smiled, and leapt off the roof. He twisted and shifted in mid-air, landing on paws and hooves silently on the ground, and he actually pranced a bit as he headed into his lair to sleep.   
  



	8. New Friends and Broken Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo cleans up his mess, as promised. Hux and Kylo meet some surprising locals- and Hux makes new friends and allies. Kylo and Hux cross a boundary together, and Hux isn't sure how to cope with his own morals over it.

_I've murdered half the town/ Left you love-notes on their headstones/ I'll fill the graveyards until I have you_ \- The Horror of Our Love, Ludo

The morning was a quiet affair, as was the norm when Finn and Poe were home and slept during the night. The two were tangled in the multiple blankets, Poe on his side, his snores muffled under a pillow that had somehow fallen over his head. Finn was sprawled on his back, his arm draped over Poe’s side, his leg between Poe’s. BB8 was curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed in his blanket, a fluffy roll of orange and white fur that made occasional soft yips and twitches as he dreamed- likely of chasing squirrels. The apartment bedroom was quiet, and blissfully domestic, with the windows cracked open again to let in the smell of a rainy night giving way to a cooler morning that hinted at the brief window of the Alabama autumn. 

The silence was broken with a shriek of excited delight from the bathroom, and all parties in the bedroom jerked awake as Rey bounded out, stark naked, her towel left on the bathroom floor. She bounced on the bed, unable to contain herself. 

“Rey, what the hell?” Poe moaned, sitting up, the pillow falling off his head and onto Finn’s chest- and then onto the floor as Finn likewise sat up, blinking rapidly. All the while, BB8 whined in irritation. 

“I got an email to go fix a _ROLLS ROYCE PHANTOM,_ ” Rey crowed, bouncing on her knees. 

Despite the early hour, being woken up from a deep sleep, and coming down from being startled, Poe couldn’t help but admire Rey’s nude body still damp from the shower, water shining on her lean muscles and long limbs. Finn clearly had the same appreciation running through his head, his dark hand reaching out and rubbing small circles over Rey’s back, a sleepy smile on his face. 

“Maybe that means the owner will tip you well and pay full price for all the parts,” he said drowsily. 

Rey flumped onto Finn’s chest heavily, eliciting an ‘oof’ from him. She grinned, her freshly brushed teeth glittering as she leaned on him, her small firm breasts pressing to his chest- her skin was still warm from the shower. 

“You two don’t understand. Who else in this small podunk owns a _Rolls Royce_?” she asked. 

“Uh. Probably the guy who runs the polo shindig that goes on every year in Point Clear?” Poe asked, shrugging. 

“ _Hux. The one who moved back into the Woodhaven property,”_ Rey gushed. Finn and Poe exchanged a worried look.

“Um. Is uh. Is Hux gonna bring his car to the shop?” Poe asked, his brow furrowing. 

“Apparently, the tires were slashed, and he doesn’t want to risk a tow, so I’ll be going there to replace them- he’s also ordered an oil change and tune up since he’s about due for one!” Rey answered brightly. Finn pursed his lips.

“Maybe we should go with you- I can drive you in my truck, since you’ll need to get the tires and tote your tools. Would be easier in the truck, yeah?” he offered. Rey beamed and hugged him.

“You’re sweet, Finn, thank you!”

Relieved Rey had no objections to going to Woodhaven with company, Poe got out of bed and padded towards the kitchen. Rey looked up at him. 

“Where’re you going, Poe?” she asked. 

“Going to make us some breakfast. Might as well have a full stomach before doing some work,” he replied before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“And you should get dressed- not that I mind the view, but you can’t fix a Rolls naked,” Finn teased, rolling Rey off him. 

“You’d love to see that, though,” Rey retorted, getting up and pulling dresser drawers open and rummaging for some work clothes that weren’t too ratty. 

“Listen, we’ve discussed that, and engine oil is not exactly the best thing to have involved in the bedroom,” Poe called from the kitchen over the sound of a whisk in a bowl, causing Rey and Finn both to laugh. 

Once they were dressed, Finn emerged from the room to help Poe cook. They both were decent in the kitchen, while Rey was pretty much a hazard to anything that wasn’t frozen and prepackaged, so they did most of the cooking. Rey, however, had more than just a gift with cars- she kept their appliances in great working order, so the labour was well balanced in the kitchen. 

Poe was making cheese omelets- with mushrooms for himself, chives and tomato for Finn, and extra cheese and bacon for Rey. Finn set a pot of coffee brewing, and got to work making biscuits- he’d perfected a quick and easy drop biscuit recipe that all three of them loved, and was easy to customise with various ingredients to fit different meals. They weren’t pretty, but were delicious. 

Rey, in the interim, fed BB8 and kept him distracted with toys so as to keep him from bouncing around underfoot as Poe and Finn cooked in the small kitchen. It was hard, as the little dog kept sniffing the air, which was laden with the smell of bacon, egg, biscuit, coffee and cheese. Rey pulled the fluffball into her lap and rubbed him behind the ears. Her stomach growled, and BB8 barked at it, making her laugh. 

She had never known such domestic happiness until she’d moved in with Finn and Poe. She’d grown up in the foster care system with foster parents who just didn’t understand her. They didn’t know how to cope with her sudden fits of frustration that presented itself as aggression, as anger, or fits of tears paired with rage- none of it she was able to explain without making it worse. She didn’t know how to explain or express her feelings, and she’d never known how to properly express gratitude or happiness without being perceived as being false or insincere- even mocking. They also never know what to make of her hyperfocus on certain topics- even as a child, Rey had been fascinated by the workings of machines, especially appliances and vehicles. At first, her foster fathers who’d enjoyed auto work had seen it as a way to bond, and had let her help out with oil changes, tire replacement and other small maintenance jobs. But later on, she got in trouble for dismantling ovens and dishwashers, even popping open car hoods and poking in the engines.

She’d always been able to put them back together again- she tried explaining that once she saw how something fit together, she remembered it, and could put it back without a problem- but it was hard for some adults to grasp that a girl child would be able to have an innate understanding of mechanics that surpassed the male adults in the household, and she was barred from tinkering. This led to her withdrawing, and burying herself in technical books and user manuals, learning what she could from text, but this was nothing like hands-on experience, and it frustrated her. This only led to the fits of frustration, the tears, and the emotional issues manifesting as aggression as a result of being unable to express herself properly. As a result, Rey went from many foster homes until she was seventeen. By that point, she’d signed up for as many technical classes and vocational classes as she could- auto shop, welding, metal working, HVAC, anything that had her getting greasy with machine lubricant, or had her getting her hands on machines and their inner workings. She was a natural, and aced her classes. 

Once she was seventeen, she applied to be an emancipated minor, and the condition of it being granted was that she found a job to support herself. Rey immediately went to various auto-repair shops inquiring about a job. Most turned her away due to her age, but one took a chance on her, seeing her grades and performance from school. He gave her a car to work on, to see how she’d handle it. In almost two days, she had the clunker running. Impressed, he hired her on the spot, and told her to keep the clunker, wanting to see how she’d continue improving it. Rey had the old 5.0 litre running and roaring in less than a fortnight, and her role as a main assistant was secure- and her boss signed the title over to her when she turned eighteen. 

After meeting Poe and Finn, and falling head over heels for both of them, she’d accepted their offer to move in with them after a year of dating- but had done so reluctantly. She’d never known a stable home life, and was worried that moving in with them would sour the relationship when they encountered her emotional and mental quirks, her issues with expression. She’d been wrong on so many levels. 

Finn, with his PTSD, had periods of silence, and an inability to speak without breaking down, so he had times where he needed to be alone, to calm down. He also went on verbal lockdown, or had small fits of anger when triggered. Poe had his own demons- growing up as an only child with parents who were practically heroes put a lot of pressure on him. His mother and father were both ace pilots for the Navy, and had done air rescue during natural disasters during their reserve terms. Poe had been expected to follow in their shoes- but Poe didn’t want to be military, and that had crushed his parents. They thought flying helicopters for local hospitals was a waste of his talents, and despite there being a lot of love between them, they still had blistering arguments about it over the phone a few times a year. 

It didn’t help that his parents had told Poe that he couldn’t bring Rey and Finn to the family Thanksgiving dinner- not if he was going to introduce them to the family as his husband and girlfriend. It had been one thing accepting him being bisexual, but being in a polyamorous relationship was where they drew the line. Rey had assumed it was her fault, and never asked Poe about meeting his folks, and Finn, like her, was also an orphan, and he didn’t ask, either. They both silently assumed it was in everyone’s best interest to not taint other people’s families. 

Rey learned that the men in her life needed their space sometimes, and she learned that needing her own space, some moments to be alone, was perfectly acceptable, and that her issues with expressing herself were normal- at least in their household. It had taken her a while to let her guard down, to accept that it wasn’t going to end or go away, but now, she was comfortable, content- and home, with the two men she loved more than anything or anyone in the world. 

“Let’s eat!” Poe said eagerly, carrying plates into the dining nook, followed by Finn who carefully balanced a bowl of biscuits and mugs of coffee- black with loads of sugar for Poe, two sugars and a splash of cream for himself, and a splash of coffee with amaretto cream and sugar for Rey. 

Rey set BB8 down and handed him a Whimzee to chew on while they ate their breakfast. She sat beside Finn after squeezing Poe’s shoulder gratefully and kissed him on the forehead. 

“It smells amazing,” she chirped, cutting into her omelet and smiling with delight as a flood of cheese and bacon oozed out onto her plate. She immediately grabbed a biscuit and dipped it into the gooey mess. 

“I don’t know why I’m such a bad cook,” she said, her mouth full of egg and biscuit. “You two make it look so easy!”

Finn snorted affectionately into his coffee, and Poe lifted a brow as he slid a forkful of cheese and mushroom into his mouth.

“I don’t know how you manage to burn box mac and cheese, Rey. You can pull apart an oven and put it back together in an hour, but you burn noodles in water,” he replied after swallowing. 

Rey shrugged helplessly, her mouth too full of omelet to answer without spraying it across the table. Finn took a biscuit and tore it in half, loading a third of his omelet into it and chowing down. 

“So, where to after breakfast?” he asked. Rey swallowed, then took a sip of her coffee-spiked cream and sugar. 

“Fairhope Tire first, they’ll likely have the tires already- Hux said he’d put in the order around four am in his email, so I’ll just need to pick them up.”

“Hang on- four am?” Poe asked, fork freezing halfway to his mouth. “Why did he order tires at four am, and how did his tires get slashed at four am?”

Rey shrugged and pulled out her phone, flipping through it and opening the email. 

“Email didn’t say, just said: ‘Good morning. Maz Kanata recommended you, and I would like to hire your services. The left two tires of my vehicle were found slashed early this morning. I cannot risk a tow, and I value my privacy, so I would prefer to hire you to come to my residence to replace the tires. My car is also close to needing a yearly oil change and tune up, so I would like to add those to the list so I am not completely wasting your time just to replace two tires. The vehicle is a 2018 Rolls Royce Phantom. I have taken the liberty of rush ordering tires from Fairhope Tire, and parts from the NAPA across the street from the civic centre. I thank you for your time and discretion. - Sebastian Hux.’” Rey read aloud. 

“Time and discretion,” Poe echoed. “Slashed tires? I’m guessing someone found out he’s trans and gave him a ‘proper’ welcoming present.”

Rey’s eyes widened in dismay.

“Oh no, you don’t think that’s what happened, do you?”

Finn wiped up the last of his omelet with some biscuit.

“That’s how it is here, Rey. I know you technically grew up over in Mobile County, but Baldwin… it’s a lot less liberal.”

Poe snorted. 

“Like Mobile is liberal,” he retorted. 

“More so than Baldwin,” Finn pointed out. “Regardless, this is Alabama. Trans folks, poly folks, and especially anyone who isn’t white? We aren’t high up on the social ladder here. Hux may have had some privilege growing up as a white kid, but folks aren’t gonna let him keep that privilege once everyone knows he’s trans.”

Rey’s mouth drooped sadly.

“So he wants me to come over there to avoid towing his car and letting everyone see his Rolls with slashed tires.”

“Looks that way,” Poe agreed, looking tired as he drained his coffee mug. 

Finn popped the last bit of biscuit in his mouth, and Rey chowed down the remaining fourth of her omelet in one bite. Finn chuckled, watching her devour her large mouthful as he gathered up their plates, then took them into the kitchen. BB8, his Whimzee long devoured, pranced after Finn, hopeful about getting a bite of any leftovers. 

“Okay, so tires, then Napa, then to the Hux place?” Poe asked. Rey nodded. 

“You wanna come with, Poe?” Finn asked as he came back from the kitchen. Poe nodded. 

“Might help to show some solidarity, a few more friendly faces might help let him know he’s not alone, and we are willing to be supportive- even friends, if he’s willing.”

“I hope so,” Rey said earnestly as she gathered the now empty mugs from her partners and danced around the still hopeful BB8 back to the kitchen. 

“The last thing anyone needs is to be alone when you’re already an outcast.”

* * *

Hux stood on the front porch, Djarum dangling unlit from his lips as he scrutinised the yard where Kylo had fed on Codi’s body. 

Despite the gorefest that had occurred the night before, not a single blade of grass looked out of place. Even the furrows Kylo had raked into the mud during his rage at Hux slicing him were gone without a trace. 

This disturbed Hux more than he wanted to admit. Was this Kylo’s doing, or was he so part of the land as a guardian spirit that the land bent to his will?

“You seem concerned.”

Hux looked up to see Kylo sitting under the storage building’s portico. He was in his human form, dressed to the nines in 1890’s clothing as always, and Hux wondered how he wasn’t wishing for death in the heat. 

“I am,” Hux replied, lighting his Djarum and taking a drag. “There is no evidence whatsoever of what transpired last night.”

Kylo tilted his head, black locks tumbling over his shoulders, and Hux was overcome with the desire to stroke them- they looked so soft, so silky. 

“I told you I would make it go away, that you wouldn’t be tied to her disappearance. I made good on my word,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

“Does the land itself obey your will?” Hux asked, genuinely curious- and a little afraid. 

“It’s my territory and I’ve been bound to it, protected it, guarded it and loved it for centuries. It’s an extension of myself, so in a way, yes, it does.”

“Is that why most animals- even mosquitoes- never venture past certain markers? Why it took multiple wards and amulets and witch bottles to reassure Millicent that it was safe?” Hux asked. Kylo nodded. 

“You’ll find your mare is much calmer now- I do not see her as prey, and indicated as such. You are bonded to me now, and I protect you. She is important to you, so by extension, she is protected by me.”

Hux found this oddly reassuring, and relieving in no small amount, knowing Kylo wouldn’t eat his beloved horse. 

“We have to establish rules, Kylo,” Hux said after taking another drag of his clove. “Since the ward lines no longer matter, we need to talk about what you can and cannot do.”

Kylo pouted, his full lips pursing, and Hux hated how his eyes were drawn to them, following their curves and tracing their lines in his mind.

“Must we?” Kylo all but whined. 

“Yes, we must,” Hux said firmly. “I have someone coming over to fix the tires you ruined, and I cannot have you attacking them for no reason like you did with the man who was renovating Millie’s stables.” 

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Kylo said softly, and Hux blinked at him. 

“What?” he asked, a little too sharply, caught off guard. 

“That man insulted you,” Kylo growled, his sclera going dark, his pupils turning red. 

That caught Hux by surprise, and the Djarum nearly tumbled from his lips as his mouth fell open. 

“What?” he asked again, unable to come up with anything else to say. Maz had recommended those men, they should have been trustworthy, they all-

-But they hadn’t all been “on the same page.” Some had been temporary, seasonal workers to fill out the team. The man that Kylo had gutted had been one of those fill-ins. 

Kylo approached, wincing as the sun hit his skin, and his form whirled, became nebulous and hazy before the borzoi-mix stood not even a foot away from him. Hux assumed the thick fur of his canine form protected his skin from the sun’s harsh light. 

“You came out before I could gut them both,” Kylo snarled, the white teeth glittering and flashing in his almost comically long muzzle. 

“The one I gutted had gone through your medicine cabinet. He was laughing about a medication you have.” 

Hux stiffened, gazing at Kylo intently. He said nothing, waiting for him to continue. 

“Your testosterone,” Kylo said. “I don’t know how they pieced it together, but he and his cronie friend were laughing about it, calling you unspeakable names and terms even my ancient tail knows to be slurs.” 

Hux felt his stomach sink into his hips and churn with shame, with anger, with fear. Would they have told anyone else about his gender, about who he might have been before his return? Or would they be too scared of the Thing in the Slaughterhouse that had attacked them right after they’d mocked their employer behind his back?

“They were laughing at you. Regardless of my feelings for you, about you at the time, you were _mine_ to torment, not another human for something petty and unimportant like gender. I wouldn’t- couldn’t- allow it.”

“You were going to kill them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I was,” Kylo confirmed. “I was going to drag him into my den to devour him. Both of them, but mainly the one who spewed lies and filth about you. The only thing that stopped me was you- and the sunlight returning.”

“So sunlight hurts you.”

“To a degree, and only when it’s direct. It keeps me from taking my true form. I need to take pure black, smaller forms to protect myself,” Kylo confirmed, his tail twitching. “When the sun was covered by clouds, I took my chance and attacked. It was enough time to take my true form, slice him, and drag him just a few feet- but you… you’re quicker than I give you credit for.”

“Is it Benson’s blood that keeps you from being violent?” Hux asked. “Is that why you stopped?”

“No. And yes. The wards are annoying, but not painful when you’re not near them. They weaken when you’re not near them. When you were gone, and the sun was covered, I was able to attack, so I did.”

Hux didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew, logically, that Kylo had attacked because of a territorial urge, to make sure that no one else tormented him but _him_. Yet, all he could feel was… flustered. Kylo had defended him, regardless, and had killed for him- twice, now. 

Kylo stared at Hux, his dark eyes flashing with glints of red, his gaze intense, serious. It held Hux like a vice grip around his ribs, and he felt like he was having a hard time breathing. 

“I’m willing to kill for you, Sebastian,” Kylo said softly. “I will fill the graveyard with the entire town if it means I can keep you to myself. ...if it means no one else will hurt you.”

“Because _you_ want to hurt me,” Hux countered. He checked his watch- they only had so much time before the mechanic arrived. 

Kylo ignored the motion of Hux checking his watch. It was rude, and they were in the middle of an important conversation, but he knew there was a human coming to tend to Hux’s precious car. The car. The horse. They were the most important things in his life, and despite the fact that half of him was still driven to destroy him, the other half of him was desperate to be that important to Hux as well. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “But only by half. Thanks to the blood in your veins- and that fool-hardy stunt you pulled, binding our blood- I cannot bring myself to harm you, despite how much my oath drives me to do so. I am being torn apart between the drive to hurt, torment, destroy, devour you, and the desire to protect, defend, and even… “

He trailed off and lowered his head, his tail curling tightly around his haunches. 

“Care for you,” he finally said after a heavy pause. 

Hux opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of tires on gravel. He turned to see a large white truck pulling up in the driveway- a white Ford F350 with a quadcab, and custom black detailing, with tires in the bed, and a very large toolbox fixed to the bed behind the cab. Three people were inside, and Hux immediately recognised two of them.

It was the EMTs that had come for the man Kylo had gutted. 

Hux worriedly glanced at Kylo. Though he’d gotten to his feet, he’d simply moved to Hux’s left side, like a well trained dog coming to heel. His long furry tail was wagging carefully- not friendly, but relaxed. Kylo looked right back at Hux and let his tongue loll out in a canine smile. 

“I won’t hurt them,” came a very soft, almost inaudible promise. 

Hux wanted to say thank you, to address him in a more dignified manner, but his guests were already out of the truck, and headed over to greet him. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He ran his hand over Kylo’s head and stroked him behind the ears.

“Good boy,” he murmured, and Kylo, unable to help himself, closed his eyes, tail wagging furiously as he leaned into the touch. 

“I see you adopted him,” Poe Dameron said as he stopped a few feet away. Hux held out his free hand in Poe’s direction.

Poe shook it, mentally noting how firm and brisque Hux’s shake was- and noted the odd mix of calluses and soft skin- as though Hux worked hard with his hands, but made sure to keep his skin well cared for to combat the effects. 

“He wouldn’t leave,” Hux said, not having to feign the helplessness in his voice. “Figured out he wasn’t feral, and he turned out to be a rather good dog, so I kept him.”

“Is that a borzoi?” Finn asked, coming up beside Poe. Hux was quick to notice the ring on Finn’s finger- this must be Dameron’s spouse. Hux was unsure why Dameron and his spouse had come with the mechanic- who was at the bed of the truck, sorting through the tires and tools. Hux nodded.

“A mix, I think,” he replied, still rubbing behind Kylo’s furry ears- and Kylo was panting happily, clearly ecstatic about it. “Borzoi and Belgian Shepherd, is my guess.”

Finn stuck out his hand. 

“We weren’t introduced- that day was a little hectic. I’m Finn, Poe’s husband,” he said kindly. 

Hux shook his hand. Finn’s grip was firm, but gentle. He had callused, warm hands that had a precision and care in the fingers that spoke of someone used to handling weapons. Former military that had seen combat, was Hux’s assumption, but he wouldn’t ask. 

“Sebastian Hux. Thank you both, for getting here so quickly that day. I still don’t entirely know what possessed him to go in there. I still don’t even know how to _begin_ clearing out and cleaning that old ruin out,” he replied. 

Kylo stopped panting and whined when Hux mentioned clearing out the slaughterhouse. Hux gave him a reassuring rub on the underside of his jaw with the pad of his thumb. It was so odd, just blatantly stroking and petting the hellhound like this- yet it felt good, almost natural. He also felt safe with Kylo at his side. 

“Yeah, that was… it was weird, but he didn’t mention anything about it, save for it being a freak accident. Something about old rebar and glass,” Poe said carefully, tilting his head and looking at Hux as though he thought he might spot a crack or a clue into Hux’s story- but didn’t press further. 

“Hi! Sorry, I had to get your tires and parts out, but I am all ready to get to work!” Rey announced, bounding over excitedly. 

She shook Hux’s hand without waiting for him to accept her own. Her hands were very rough, and Hux could tell the girl- she was so young!- had been doing work with her hands for a very long time, and for long stretches of time at that. Her hands were clean, but there were traces of oil under her nails that Hux suspected she’d never be able to fully remove unless she saw a professional. Oddly, he approved, and her hands made him feel better in calling her to fix his Phantom. 

“I’m Rey,” she said brightly. 

“Sebastian Hux,” Hux returned, and she smiled widely, showing off white straight teeth- save for one bicuspid that was slightly crooked in a very endearing way that made her smile honest and very human.

Despite his own introverted nature and general dislike of extroverted, energetic people, Hux took an instant liking to her. She was open, kind and genuine- and Hux respected genuine, open people. They ranked up there with no-nonsense people like Phasma and Maetra. 

“I know, but it’s good to meet you at last- and finally see the Woodhaven Dairy for myself!” Rey said happily. She noticed Kylo, and her eyes glittered.

“Ooohhhh look at _you_ , pretty puppy!” She crooned, then glanced at Hux. “Does he like being petted?”

“Rey loves dogs,” Poe said, amused. “We have a pomeranian, and I think she loves him more than I do.”

Hux hesitated and looked down at Kylo, who tilted his muzzle up at him in return. 

“Can you be polite and say hi?” Hux asked.

Rey laughed at how serious Hux asked the dog, but Kylo was no ordinary dog, and Hux couldn’t treat him as such. Kylo responded by bumping his nose against Rey’s outstretched hand- which she’d extended for him to sniff. As soon as his nose touched her palm, his ears went forward, and his tail wagged so furiously, it was a blur. 

“He likes me!” Rey giggled as Kylo covered her hand in a flurry of licks- and a good deal of slobber. “Ah, you’re a sweet, adorable puppy, yes you are!”

She finally pulled away, wiping her drool-covered hand on the back of her coveralls. 

“So. Let’s get to work, then!”

Hux led her to the Phantom, which she approached with as much eagerness as she had with Kylo, making a small squeak of excitement, and a coo of appreciation.

“I’ve always wanted to work on a Rolls, but never expected to get the chance. She’s a _gorgeous_ car! What's her name?”

Hux flushed. He didn't think anyone else named their cars, and he wasn't sure if he should say his car had a name in front of the other two men. 

Seeing him blush, Poe shrugged. 

"It's a thing she does. We named ours because it helps, apparently."

Finn nodded. 

"That there is Trooper," he said, motioning to the truck. "Because he's a trooper, putting up with hauling everything around." 

"My Mustang is named Starling," Rey added. "And Poe's Camaro is named Marigold."

"Marigold?" Hux repeated. It was a very random name for a Camaro. Poe smiled. 

"Small religious reference," was all he said. Hux didn’t press. 

"Her name is Leta," Hux finally said. 

"A lovely name. That'll help me talk to her better while I fix her up," Rey said happily, but her smile faded, almost looking _hurt_ as she saw the slashed tires, the corners of her mouth turning down. 

“Who would _do_ something like this?” she asked softly. 

“Who, indeed,” Hux agreed, and Kylo didn’t react- he continued leaning against Hux’s leg, panting and wagging his tail. 

Poe turned to Hux. 

“You said you just came out at four am and found the car like this?” he asked. Hux winced. 

“I know how it sounds-” he began, and Poe held up his hand. 

“No, I didn’t mean that. I mean, there was nothing else? No other vandalism, no other harassment?”

Poe thought he’d been the victim of hate motivated vandalism, and there was sympathy, solidarity in his warm brown eyes that caught Hux off guard. He didn’t know if he resented, or appreciated it. He didn’t want _anyone_ feeling sorry for him, but it made him feel a little less alone, knowing someone understood. 

“I came outside for a smoke. Odd hours due to relocation, and all. Stood on the front porch, saw the car was listing to the side. Came around and saw the two tires had been slashed,” he said helplessly. 

“Whoever it was knew what they were doing,” Rey said in disgust, kneeling by the shredded front tire. “They didn’t just rip the exterior, but managed to rip the walls in a way that doesn’t show what kind of tool they used.”

“What do you mean, Rey?” Finn asked, coming to kneel beside her for a look. Rey pointed to the jagged tear. 

“I honestly can’t tell if this was done with a knife, a screwdriver, crowbar, or some other tool,” Rey explained. “There’s a good mix of sharp edges, blunt force and downward pressure, but it had to have been done _fast_ to get such even lines- otherwise the weight of the car, plus the air escaping would have caused the tire to go flat before the rip could be fully completed.”

She looked up at Hux and Poe, frowning in confusion.

“There’s also multiple tears. I know this sounds crazy but… either this person took multiple, large steak knives to your tires at once, or they made something to mimic claws. If I didn’t think it’d make me sound nuts… I’d even suggest something with actual claws attacked your car.”

She saw their looks, and laughed, shrugging.

“Like I said, I know it sounds nuts, but whoever did this is equally nuts. I’m sorry they targeted you, Sebastian.”

She got up and started wheeling the tires over, Finn bringing her jacks behind her. 

“You ordered four. Just wanting to replace the whole set, I take it?”

Hux nodded. 

“I figured if I was going to have you come out here, I’d not waste your time. I’ll compensate for your travel and for picking up the tires and parts, of course,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Rey, however, wasn’t always quick on picking up tone, and immediately shook her head. 

“Nope. I have a flat rate for a reason- people like my open, predictable rates. I service a lot of cars of working families who rely on my rates being fair and honest, right up on the table, so they know what they’re paying for, and can plan accordingly,” she said firmly. 

“I insist,” Hux retorted. Rey folded her arms over her chest. 

“Nope. Besides. I get to work on a PHANTOM. AND I got to pet your cute puppy. On top of all that? I finally got to see the Woodhaven property! I’ve been dying to set foot on it since I was little,” she declared. 

“Is she always like this?” Hux asked Poe and Finn in mild, but slightly amused exasperation- and Poe and Finn simply laughed. 

Somehow, he got the feeling Rey was involved with the two men- he saw no ring on her finger, but that said nothing, as mechanics often went without rings during work for safety reasons. The three had a way of interacting and conversing that seemed fluid and effortless, almost instinctual, and their chemistry was perfect. 

“Yeah, she is,” Finn said fondly. There was no mistaking the affection in his voice, confirming Hux's suspicions. 

“Like what?” Rey asked, looking up from her work- in the few moments that Hux had looked to Finn and Poe, she’d already managed to get the jacks positioned under the Phantom. 

“A hot mess,” Poe replied with equal fondness. 

Rey replied with a raspberry. 

“Not that I’ll need it, but come help me get this pretty girl on jacks so I can get her all fixed up.”

She turned and fixed Hux with a Look.

“You can tip me by giving me a tour of the property, and maybe meeting your pretty pony,” she said, pointedly looking at the roan mare grazing in the paddock. 

“Deal, I guess,” Hux said, defeated- but already planning on writing a tip on his payment, anyway. 

He liked them- Poe, Finn and Rey. And apparently, so did Kylo- or at least, he liked Rey. He had left Hux’s side and was hovering near Rey, snuffling at her pants, her hands whenever she reached down to pet him, his tail wagging all the while, his head tilted curiously. 

“Kylo, come,” Hux said when Rey had to gently nudge the large black dog away for the fifth time during the replacement of the rear tire. He’d just emerged from the house, carrying a tray with glasses full of ice and a pitcher of peach and blackberry iced tea, and had seen Kylo practically glued to Rey. It made him jealous for reasons he couldn’t explain, but he also didn’t want Kylo to get underfoot.

“Kylo? That’s a cute name,” Rey said, wiping sweat from her brow before gratefully accepting a glass and letting Hux pour tea into it. She chugged it as Poe and Finn also accepted glasses from him, and she let out a satisfied, appreciative sigh afterward. 

“Is that sun tea?” she asked, happily accepting a refill when Hux offered the pitcher. He nodded.

“Grandmother’s recipe. Had it brewing all afternoon yesterday before the storm- pulled it in just after the first few claps of lightning. My grandmother said ozone was always the way to give it the right kick.”

“That’s a proven Southern secret,” Poe agreed. “Your grandmother was damned right. Good tea.”

“Thank you. She’d be pleased to know you enjoyed it.”

Finn had already downed his, but declined a refill. 

“I’ll have another after we get the tires finished, don’t wanna lower the jacks with a stomach full of tea,” he said. “But thanks.”

“We’re almost done,” Rey added. “It’ll be less than thirty minutes for me to drain the oil, then replace it and the spark plugs and filters.” 

“There’s no rush- I told my co-director about the car trouble. We don’t have any consultations to do, so she can run the funeral home without me today,” Hux reassured her. 

It was true, because he’d cancelled the only one that was upcoming- and Codi’s mom hadn’t called to reinstate it. It was likely she was trying to get in touch with her daughter. The daughter whose remains were being digested in the belly of the dog that had padded over obediently to Hux’s side, and was now leaning against him contentedly, panting in the afternoon heat. Rey smiled, and went back to work. Hux curled his fingers in Kylo’s thick furry ruff, and when Kylo tried yet again to wander back over to Rey, the grip in his fur had him sitting back down beside Hux. He whined and looked up at Hux almost pleadingly. 

“Let her work,” Hux said softly, only loud enough for Kylo to hear. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to stop.”

Kylo huffed, but didn’t move again, so Hux let him go. Kylo went down on his belly, resting his long muzzle on his forepaws, eyes watching every movement Rey made. Even though he liked the trio, Hux suddenly couldn’t wait for them to leave. 

* * *

After Rey replaced the tires and gave the Phantom a tune-up, Hux gave them an abbreviated tour of the property. They were led around the buildings- save for the slaughterhouse, Hux explaining that he still had no idea where to start cleaning it up safely. Rey had been disappointed, but understood. He introduced them to Millicent- Finn was particularly delighted with the mare, especially when she took an apple from him and butted her nose against his hand, demanding more. 

Rey was enamoured with it all, remarking on the buildings, the land, and asked about the history- and rumours. Hux gave as bland and watered down version as he could that also was his attempt at trying to dismiss the local legends and rumours about the property. All the while, Kylo padded along between Hux and Rey. He kept close, his flanks brushing Hux’s thighs, but his nose constantly sought out Rey’s scent, and he bumped his snout against her hand, giving it a lick from fingertip to wrist every so often. After the fifth time he did so, Hux swatted him on the rump, unsure why it made him jealous that Kylo was paying attention to Rey. 

Hux ended up making lunch for the trio, despite their protests that they were perfectly happy grabbing lunch from Los Tacos on the way home. Hux, ever bound to the rules of Southern Hospitality ingrained in him from childhood, wouldn’t hear of it. The four of them sat at Hux’s table, chatting over a lunch of BLTs- with avocado and muenster- and a watermelon salad Hux had tossed together from an end-of-the-season watermelon, crumbles of feta, mint, basil and lime juice, all tossed with a balsamic glaze. The three dug in with gusto, and Poe kept praising the salad, which pleased Hux to no end. He never claimed to be the best cook, but he tried to make good food. Through the entire meal, Kylo snoozed under the table- or at least appeared to. Even when Rey offered him a piece of bacon under the table, he refused to beg or take scraps. Hux offered to spike their drinks with some brandy to go with the peach and blackberry tea. Only Poe accepted- Finn was driving, and Rey had a few months before she was legal to drink. Finding this out had Hux gaping at her, despite himself. 

“You’re only twenty?” he managed. Rey flushed.

“Yeah.”

“You’re incredibly gifted, then. I’ve seen mechanics in their fifties who didn’t know cars half as well as you do,” Hux replied, finishing the last bite of his salad. 

“Machines… they just talk to me. Once I see how they go together, I just… remember, and it’s easy to put their parts where they belong so they work like they’re meant to,” Rey said with a shrug.

"She's like Kaylee from Firefly," Finn put in, and Rey flushed from the roots of her hair down to her clavicle.

"She's my favourite, it always gives me a rush when he says I'm like her," Rey said, flustered.

“Well, I’m glad Maz recommended you to me,” Hux replied, getting up and taking away the empty plates. “Leta is purring like a cat after your tune up. I think you may have actually done a better job than the dealer mechanic.” 

Rey beamed with pride, and Finn and Poe made small sounds of protest at Hux taking the dishes away, but Hux shushed them with a dismissive hand wave. 

“I’m particular about my kitchen, I don’t mind cleaning the dishes,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Hux lamented he had no dessert to offer, but Poe was quick to inform the meal had been more than sufficient, Finn and Rey nodding their agreement. Hux politely asked if any of them smoked and wanted to join him for a cigarette- he suspected none of them smoked, but it was a polite way to indicate he was ready for the visit to end. As he suspected, none of them took up the offer, and Poe mentioned they should get home to walk their own dog. As Finn helped Rey get her tools back into the truck, Hux slipped a tip of a crisp one hundred into Poe’s hand. 

“Please,” Hux said, cutting off Poe’s protest as he tried to push the hundred dollar bill back at him. “I don’t care if she doesn’t need it. She’s underselling her talent and work ethic- and her time. I would be remiss if I didn’t pay her what she’s worth.”

“It’s a pride thing,” Poe said quietly. “She’s a former foster kid. She sees tips, extra money, things like that as charity, as pity, and she can’t stand it.”

“It isn’t charity if I am paying her what I think she’s worth,” Hux said firmly. “I’ve seen mechanics charge three times what she does, and do half the work with a third of the talent and none of the passion she has. If anything? Tell her it’s a down payment on my next tune-up to ensure I can get an early slot.” 

Poe nodded, smiling. 

“That’ll work,” he conceded.

He glanced at Finn and Rey, who were wrestling the shredded tires into the bed of the truck- Hux had insisted he dispose of them, but Rey said she could use them to study. Hux had conceded, and gave her the older, non-shredded tires as well if she had use for them- which had delighted her. Apparently, she stockpiled parts and tools for odd jobs and unexpected repairs.

“Listen,” Poe said quietly. “About the tires. Whoever did this-”

Hux lifted a hand. 

“I won’t be making a report. I don’t want the attention.”

“No, I get that. I do, but Hux… whoever did this knew what they were doing. They used serious tools on your tires, and only sliced two so you couldn’t file an insurance claim.”

Hux knew all too well that if all tires were slashed, a claim could be filed. Any less than four, and you were on your own. Even with the expensive and hefty policy he had on his Phantom.

“It’s a risk I took into consideration upon coming back down here,” he said quietly.

“Do you… do you think it was the man who got hurt on your property? Or his family, or friends?” Poe pressed. 

“I thought you were an EMT, not a detective, Dameron,” Hux quipped, lifting a brow as he folded his arms over his chest. 

“It’s just… he said some things in the bus on the way to Thomas,” Poe admitted. “Something about you, about you lying about everything- about the monster in the old building, about worker safety… and about your identity. He said some things I don’t wanna have to repeat.”

Hux bristled and almost felt regret for getting to him on time, his presence saving him from Kylo’s jaws. Beside him, Kylo bumped his head against his thigh and let out a wide whining yawn, his pink tongue and white teeth showing. 

“From what I understand through some… second hand reports, was that the man had gone through my medicine cabinet while using my bathroom- he’d used my upstairs bathroom despite my instructions that no one go upstairs. He saw my testosterone and made his own assumptions- I can only guess what he was saying, and that you know what he was referring to,” Hux said stiffly. 

“I figured as much,” Poe said almost sadly. He inched closer, and Kylo flicked an ear at him. Hux stroked Kylo’s head reassuringly. Poe was trying to be discreet, not intimidating.

“Look. I’m gonna be blunt. I remember you from high school,” he began, and Hux flinched, ready to flee, to snap at them to leave. Poe hurried on.

“And I remember you were fuckin’ miserable, Sebastian,” he continued, emphasising Hux’s name. “I remember how awful folks were to you- Codi Lowall, Emileigh Lee, Rachel Sanchez, Sierra Scott, Caitlynne Horne… I know they all but tortured you.”

“Yet no one did anything,” Hux said softly, his voice thick, and he hated himself for the display of weakness. 

Poe hesitated, then put a hand on Hux’s shoulder. 

“I was in the same situation, Sebastian,” he said quietly. “Just a different boat. Growing up being told you’re a lady killer in the making, a charmer, and being expected to be the most heterosexual thing to ever het in the track and field team… and being Hispanic on top of that? All the while, I was just wishing I could ask a boy to prom, because girls? Yeah, they were pretty, I liked them, but I wanted nothing more than a boyfriend, but everything I had, everything expected of me, would have gone away in an instant if I did.”

He looked guilty then.

“I was just lucky, because I was an athlete, and had that natural charm going for me. You didn’t have that social boost to hide behind.”

“We were in completely different circles- or rather, you were at the top of the ladder, and I wasn’t even in a circle- My folks were rich and white, yes, but I was still the weird funeral home kid who dressed like a lump,” Hux said quietly. “Trying to help me would have been social suicide, for both of us- and likely would have endangered our actual lives if anyone suspected why you were being chummy with me, of all people.”

Hux hated how his eyes were stinging, his sinuses burning with decades of unshed tears. He was angry at Poe for bringing this up- even if he did appreciate that on some level, Poe knew at least half of what he’d gone through. 

“I know, and I wish I’d done something back then, but I didn’t. That’s why I’m offering to do so _now,_ ” Poe said, and Hux blinked, swearing mentally at himself for the blur of tears in the corners of his eyes. 

“What?” It was a popular part of his vocabulary today, apparently. 

“I know you likely noticed the rings, how the three of us interact,” Poe said.

Hux glanced behind Poe’s shoulder- Finn and Rey were approaching carefully seeing Hux’s expression and not knowing how close to get. Hux gave the slightest nod to indicate it was alright. He dug his fingers into Kylo’s fur for support, and Kylo nuzzled his thigh, his panting warm against his leg, tail thumping in the grass. 

“We’re not exactly social norms here, either,” Poe continued when the other two joined them. “Finn and I are married, but I know you saw the rings. I’m bi- Finn is pan.”

“I’m demisexual,” Rey put in gently. “And we’re all poly.” 

“Rey’s not married to us- she can’t be,” Finn said, and it was clear it was a sore spot for all three of them. 

“As far as anyone knows, they’re gay, and I’m their ‘oddball roommate,’” Rey said. “That and the age difference sometimes bothers people, with them being ten years older than me.” 

“You’re a consenting adult,” Hux pointed out, and Rey snorted.

“Tell that to all the people who still think I’m 16 because of my baby face- and when they find out I'm a former foster kid? They think Poe and Finn are taking advantage of me,” she retorted. 

“In any case, Sebastian,” Poe said, getting back on track. “You have support with us. Finn and I both heard what that man said about you. If you need anyone to back you up, or anything, you let us know, okay? You’re not alone here.”

He reached out his hand, and Hux took it, clasping it hard in his own. He nodded, firmly, trying to rein in his emotions. 

“Thank you,” he managed as Rey touched his shoulder gently, albeit awkwardly, as if she wasn’t sure about how to properly reassure him. Finn clapped Hux on the shoulder warmly, and gave him a nod. 

“You have friends in us,” he said. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“I.. I really appreciate it,” Hux said quietly, his voice tight. "Thank you."

Rey leaned down and patted Kylo on the head- and he immediately licked her hand again. 

“Take care of Sebastian,” she told him. “I think he needs lots of snuggles tonight, okay?”

Kylo tilted his head, ears pricking forward, and he wagged his tail harder. The four said their goodbyes, and Hux stood in the driveway, waving until the truck disappeared from sight. With a quiet sob, Hux collapsed into the grass, drew his knees to his chest, pressed his face against them, and began to cry. Long, wracking sobs shook his body, and he rocked back and forth as he cried. Kylo whined and pressed against him. 

“Why are you upset?” he asked quietly, cursing the sun for not having set yet- he very much wanted to take his human form and wrap Hux in his arms for reasons he couldn’t explain. Seeing Hux in distress made him hurt. 

“I’m not,” Hux muttered, lifting his head and wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“You’re crying in the front yard and getting grass stains on your slacks that I know you'll be upset about later,” Kylo pointed out. 

“I’m relieved,” Hux replied, sniffling. “That I’m not alone.”

Kylo’s ears wilted.

“You aren’t alone- I’m here, and was here first,” he all but whined. 

“You tried to _eat me,_ ” Hux pointed out. “You made me _piss myself._ ”

“Irrelevant- things have changed. Drastically, and literally overnight,” Kylo snorted. 

“And besides,” Hux cut in, and his tone was bitter, jealous. “You seemed far more fond of Rey than you have ever been of me.”

“You’re mad about that? I was trying to figure out her scent,” Kylo growled in annoyance. Damned humans and their weak sense of smell. 

“And not Poe’s? Or Finn’s?” Hux countered. Kylo snorted. 

“They’re different. Rey is special.”

“I’m sure,” Hux huffed, getting to his feet and heading for the cool interior of the house where a decanter of brandy waited for him to mix with more tea. Kylo padded alongside him. 

“May I come in?” Kylo asked, Hux pausing on the steps. He considered, then sighed. At least Kylo was asking, and politely at that. 

“I guess. If you behave.”

“I behaved earlier,” Kylo reminded him as he followed Hux inside, his claws clicking on the linoleum. “I didn’t even beg for scraps at the table.”

“Which they found odd, actually. A dog surrounded by the smells of bacon and cheese even offered a slice of bacon, and he just snoozes under the table? No dog is that apathetic or well trained when it comes to bacon,” Hux commented as he mixed his spiked tea and headed for the living room. As they reached the deeper interior of the house, Kylo gave Hux a pleading look.

“Can you close the curtains?” he asked. “So I can change shape?”

It was much easier to talk to Kylo in his human form, so Hux agreed, and pulled the dark burgundy curtains closed. He turned to the couch to find Kylo already sitting on it, his human mouth smiling almost sheepishly at him. Hux sat beside him, trying to keep a modicum of distance between them- which was difficult, as Kylo was a large man in his human form. In the light of day, and the house’s interior lights, Hux could see Kylo was well built, tall, and _damnit,_ he was _pretty._ For the first time, he wasn’t wearing the overcoat, just the waistcoat with the shirt and cravat, the classy, but outdated pants, and his hands were gloved. With his wild long hair and sensuous lips, he looked like something out of an Oscar Wilde novel. 

“So. Tell me what’s special about Rey?” Hux finally asked. 

“She’s a Benson.”

Hux froze, his eyes widening and locking on Kylo’s face, which was deadpan and serious.

“You- you’re certain?”

“She nicked her knuckles on a part in the engine. I got a taste of her blood. There’s no mistaking it,” Kylo replied. 

“But.. How? Does that mean we’re related? What does that mean for me, for the land, the curse, the oath, us, you-”

Kylo leaned forward and pressed a suede-clad finger to Hux’s rambling lips, cutting him off. 

“I am yours,” he said softly, and despite his best attempts to stifle it, Hux shuddered at the words, the tone, the expression in Kylo’s eyes as he spoke them. 

“The land, the property. It’s yours. My loyalty is to you- bound by oath and curse.”

“So what does it _mean_?” Hux asked, his lips moving against Kylo’s finger. 

“It means Rey will very likely learn to see me for what I am, or at least, sense me for what I am. It means she very likely has the gift of magic, which undoubtedly is why Maz recommended her. Insufferable busybody,” Kylo sighed. 

“Magic… you mean like a witch?” Hux’s tone was skeptical, and Kylo let out a bark of laughter that actually sounded like a bark. 

“I am a literal guardian spirit passed down through a familial bloodline, twisted into an abomination by an act of desperate vengeance. You watch me change shape, you have seen me devour someone for you, and you doubt the existence of magic and witches?”

“There is a limit to what the logical part of my brain can process and accept!” Hux snapped. “Magic is one of them, being that it is intangible and hard to prove due to coincidence and circumstantial evidence regarding its results!” 

Kylo lifted a brow, and Hux continued.

“They say haint blue paint will deter spirits, make them leave your home and go to the other world- circumstantial, as there’s no proof of spirits. A self proclaimed witch casts a spell to help someone in a random aspect of their life- that person is already receptive to various assistance, and makes them open to seeing new angles from which to approach their problem, making them more likely to succeed. Coincidence, and circumstantial, as there is no direct proof the witch’s spell succeeded.”

“A witch cursed your family to be haunted, tormented and devoured by a spirit that had once been her own family’s protector. And here I am,” Kylo said pointedly. 

“That… that is very different from your average, every day self proclaimed witch or psychic who can do a general Google search on finances or tarot meanings in order to give readings a personal touch that mean more to the customer- as most witches and psychics are driven by money to appeal to those desperate enough to turn to esoteric means to find answers,” Hux retorted. 

“We aren’t talking about online or roadside charlatans,” Kylo said firmly. “We’re talking about people with bloodlines of magic users, of those who work with spirits and have long familial histories of rituals and traditions that refused to die under the heel of Christianity- that adapted and became part of it to survive, and became its own unique form of religion.” 

“But what does it _mean,_ ” Hux pressed. “Are you loyal to her, now, too?”

Kylo shook his head. 

“I am bound to you, in many ways, most importantly, through our very blood- something you will need to come to terms with very soon, because it will start affecting you eventually. As for Rey? I cannot harm her or her mates. I like her because I have to, but I am not bound to her.”

Hux ignored the bit about their bond affecting him. He hadn’t thought about what bonding with a spirit would do to him, he just wanted the harassment and fear to end. He was relieved, however, to hear Kylo was loyal to him, bound to him, and that Rey couldn’t take him away.

_Take him away. As if he were mine, and as if I wanted him._

_“I am yours,”_ Kylo had said. 

Hux shuddered again, and glanced at Kylo- to see he’d closed the distance between them. His scent was surrounding him again, and Hux felt various emotions and desires rise in him throughout various parts of his body. Longing, hunger, craving in a way that wasn’t for food, desire, and arousal- but also deep seated, almost instinctual fear. What was it about his scent that caused such a reaction in him?

“But enough about that, for now,” Kylo said, ignoring how Hux’s pulse had spiked, how adrenaline was coursing through his veins, but there was increased blood flow and heat in his loins, and the scent of fear and arousal rolled off him in equal amounts. 

“Th-then what do you want?” Hux asked, hating how he stammered. 

Kylo took Hux’s wrist in his hand gently, and pulled him forward. Hux was limp, shocked and surprised by the action, and he practically fell against him. Kylo slid an arm around his waist, tucking him close against him, his other arm curling around his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was bound by my oath, and that oath was to terrorise you. Now… I don’t know what to do, but at this moment, all I can think to do, all I can do in any capacity, is to apologise, and comfort you.”

Hux was drowning, suffocating. Kylo’s scent was making it hard to think, to breathe, and the feel of his arms around him, his broad chest against his cheek, the odd coolness of his muscular body against his was driving him to a disoriented confusion bordering on dissociation. Kylo was cool, almost cold, his muscles as firm as though they were being flexed- but they were rock hard when they _did_ flex with his movements. His scent made Hux think of something very warm and alive, but Kylo was anything but. He was cold, and hard, and something was very, very off about him as he pulled Hux into his arms. As he apologised, his deep soft voice rumbling in his chest, it struck Hux what was off, and his mind ground to a halt, his lizard brain shrieking at a deafening pitch that blocked out all thoughts but one- his realisation of what was wrong. 

_He has no heartbeat, there’s no heart, he eats, he breathes, he bleeds but there’s no heartbeat, he has no heart._

On and on the litany repeated itself in his mind as his primitive hindbrain screamed its fear. A pulse, a heartbeat was needed to live. This thing, this monster, was not alive. He was being held by a corpse. 

Hux must have stiffened- or perhaps, he’d wet himself again, and that thought helped bring him out of his terror induced stupor. Kylo was very good at making him lose control of his bladder and he was getting very tired of being scared to the point of indignity. He surfaced from the mire of his own terror and did a mental sweep. Cold arms, cold chest around and against him. Warm firm couch under him- dry and indignity free. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, but the reality was, he was being held by something without a pulse.

“Kylo…”

“I wanted to comfort you,” he said quietly, his cheek resting against the top of Hux’s head. 

“I have caused you pain, stress and grief. I wanted to help you feel better.”

“This… this won’t help,” Hux said as gently as he could. Despite his terror, he surprised himself by realising he did appreciate the effort, and didn’t want to upset Kylo. 

Kylo blinked and pulled back, the hurt evident on his face. 

“No?”

“You… you’re cold, and you don’t have a heartbeat,” Hux said, flustered. “It took me by surprise and unnerved my baser line of thoughts.”

Surprisingly, Kylo didn’t seem offended. He simply nodded. 

“Humans have always been afraid of things that are not warm, things without pulses. We spirits, revenants, even the benevolent ones, we’ve always had that issue.”

“I’m sorry,” Hux said, pulling away. Kylo did not try to pull him back, and his eyes were patient, but sad. 

“I won’t force you to touch me- even if you did like petting me as a dog- but… if it helps, I eventually will warm up with your body heat and feel a little less … dead.”

“But are you dead? Alive? Undead?” Hux asked.

“I am a spirit with a protean body,” Kylo answered. “I wasn’t conceived, born or created. I simply… am. So I am not any of those. I have never died, but I never lived, not as mortals do, because the end point of life… is death, and I will never die, so how can I live?”

Though confusing, it was a valid point, and it actually made Hux’s logical mind feel more at ease. 

“That makes sense. You exist. You are. That… that’s enough for me,” he said, his voice soft, less tense.

Hux hesitated only for a moment, then leaned back against Kylo, who made a soft sound of pleased surprise, and wrapped his arms around him again. Hux made a small squeak of protest as Kylo pulled him again, lying back on the couch, Hux on top of his chest, their legs tangling together- though Kylo’s dangled off the end, his feet nearly reaching the floor. 

“Yeah, you’re cold,” Hux complained, but there was no protest in it- as Kylo had said, he was slowly warming up. 

Whether he was simply absorbing Hux’s body heat, or was imitating Hux’s body temperature, he couldn’t say, but the slow climb in his temperature put him further at ease. If not for the lack of heartbeat, Hux almost would have completely relaxed against him- for as he warmed, his muscles also became a little more pliable, softer and comfortable. And damn it all, if he didn’t smell incredible, and Hux was fighting to ignore the slowly growing, building heat and pressure in his groin. How was he so aroused from a scent- especially one that scared him as much as it enticed?

Kylo made a sound- soft at first, but it slowly grew in volume when he saw Hux wasn’t frightened by it. It was a low, clicking, churring rumble, deep in his chest. It was similar to the sound Kylo had made that awful night, but without the roar of anger or bellowing reptilian hiss. It was like a content, happy orca’s clicking mixed with the low rumbling purr of a housecat.It was odd, but soothing, and Hux found it surprisingly endearing, and found himself relaxing even further against Kylo’s chest, which, lack of heartbeat aside, was now as warm and pliable as a regular- or rather, well-toned- human being. 

Kylo was struggling. 

He had no pulse to give him away, but the human’s scent- his arousal, his fear, his tiny, but growing spark of contentment- was in his nose and stirring various desires. The pounding of his heart, the rush of his blood, the heat of his loins near his own thigh was only fuelling the conflicting emotions. He wanted to protect Hux. To comfort him, to reassure him, to make sure nothing bad happened to him. Yet, he also wanted to tear him apart. To sink his teeth into his neck, his soft belly, to rip him asunder and devour all he was and swallow him whole. 

Then there was the third craving that caught him completely by surprise- and yet it was wholly expected, given this unique bond they now shared. Hux was aroused- so Kylo was as well. Kylo wanted to bend Hux over the arm of the couch, rip off his clothing, and mount him. He wanted to sink his teeth into the back of his neck as he pounded into him mercilessly, to mark him as his, to lose control of his form and simply fuck his human into a gibbering, oblivious mess, to hear him beg for release. 

Hux was aroused and enamoured by his scent, but equally repulsed and afraid by it- Kylo smelled of life and death, of equal parts everything that was good and delicious, and everything that was bad and repulsive. He smelled of everything that appealed to Hux, and everything that disgusted or terrified. He would smell different to every human that came across him, but the reaction would be the same- attracted and repelled at once. Unable to leave, but unwilling to stay. He was a mixture of life and death, of protection and destruction, and his very state of being was that of a dual nature that warred with itself inside him and everything around him. But Hux, who had his blood in his veins, was part of him now, and Kylo was part of him. They were over that barrier that separated predator from prey, and terror from desire. They hadn’t destroyed that boundary, but they’d found a way over it. 

It was up to Hux to decide if he wanted, was willing, to destroy that boundary. 

Hux was relaxing more, as Kylo’s body matched his own temperature, and was, frankly, comfortable, and comforting. His hands were tracing random patterns over his back, and Hux could feel sharp claws under the gloves. Kylo’s chest rose and fell under Hux’s cheek, and it baffled him that a creature with no heart would still need to breathe. Or did he? Their stomachs were almost flush against one another’s- Hux’s soft belly against Kylo’s toned, muscular abdomen and firm hips. Hux’s groin was dangerously close to one of Kylo’s thick, strong thighs, and Hux cocked his hips to try to avoid contact and settle more chastely on top of him. 

Kylo made no comment- perhaps he didn’t feel arousal. It would make sense, he had no heartbeat, no heart, so it stood to reason he didn’t have genitals, maybe. That wasn’t true, however, and Hux knew it. Finn had made the comment that the Haven- a no-kill shelter and veterinary clinic in downtown Fairhope- did discount spaying and neutering for adopted dogs- an indirect comment about Kylo not being fixed. 

“Keeps them from getting wanderlust due to other kinds of lust, y’know?” he’d joked. “Lowers cancer risks, too.”

The _Look_ Kylo had given him had made Hux nearly burst into laughter, but he’d maintained his composure. So no, Kylo definitely had the parts. 

The realisation disturbed him suddenly, and it was like a bucket of cold water on his crotch, and he could FEEL his erection shrinking back between the folds of his cunt. Kylo wasn’t human. His true form was that of a monstrous near-dog with a skull head, antlers, and hooves on his rear legs. His other form was a literal dog. Yes, he was snuggled on top of a human at the moment, and it felt nice- he was pretty, and definitely sentient, sapient- but he wasn’t really human. What kind of line did that cross if he had sexual thoughts about him? Even if his thoughts were only about the human form? His true form made him piss himself, and his dog form made him want to pet him and snuggle him. His human form made him want to lie on the bed, face down, with his ass in the air, cunt exposed, wet and gaping, desperate to take Kylo’s cock. 

Regardless of what that cock might actually look like.

That was normal, right? Kylo’s human form was gorgeous, well built. It was normal to want to jump his bones when he looked that pretty. But did it say something about him that he _knew_ what Kylo really was, what he _really_ looked like, and still wanted him? Did that mean he was, in some way, attracted to the monster?

Kylo pressed his lips to Hux’s head, and as if reading his mind, cleared his throat. 

“It’s almost time for the sun to set. I should go hunt. I’m hungry,” he said softly. “Are you feeling calmer? Safe?”

Hux managed to sit up, and nodded. 

“Thank you, Kylo,” he said, not making eye contact. The heat was rushing back into his loins again, but Kylo made no comment. He himself was glad Hux had gotten up- he was feeling the affects of Hux's arousal, his cock was stirring beneath his pants, and he needed to leave before he had to deal with something that was not in his realm of experience. 

“If you need me, or want me to come back inside later, let me know. Otherwise, I will sleep outside your window,” he said, getting up and heading for the door. 

Hux said nothing, and Kylo could feel his confusion, his arousal, his frustration as he left the house. 

* * *

When Kylo came back later that night, sated and full- and more than a little satisfied with his hunt- he leapt onto the roof and moved to curl up by the window, only to see it was open. 

“You can come in, if you want,” Hux said quietly from inside the warm darkness of his room. 

Kylo stuck his head inside the window, his bony snout pushing between the blackout curtains. He could see Hux in bed, curled up on his side on the far right side of the bed. 

“Are you sure?” Kylo asked. 

“Yeah. I could… that is… I was thinking about today, and the other incident… and Codi. I know this won’t get any easier- it’ll get harder, and I don’t know how I’m going to keep myself safe without putting my employees and my new friends in danger because of who I am,” Hux said, his voice small in the dark. 

Kylo shifted to his borzoi shape, and climbed through the window, padding up to Hux’s bed. He circled a few times before lying down on the floor at the foot of the bed. There was a rustle of fabric as Hux sat up, and Kylo’s ears pricked forward as he heard him pat the empty bed beside him. 

“You can sleep up here with me, provided you behave,” he whispered. 

“Is the dog shape acceptable?” Kylo asked, lifting his head into Hux’s view. 

It was likely Hux only saw the vague impression of his canine head, but Kylo saw Hux as if bathed in moonlight, and he saw Hux nod before saying,

“Yes, it is. Come on up here, Kylo.”

Kylo leapt lightly onto the bed into the empty space beside Hux, who laid back down. He circled a few times and curled up into a ball as close to the warm spot Hux occupied as he dared. His back was to Hux’s, and he breathed in deeply, doing exactly what he’d wanted to do the night before. He was able to smell him, the full range of him, and the scent of his room, his clothing, his bed- his den. He could feel Hux’s warm back against his as Hux shifted, coming closer to have contact with Kylo’s body. 

He was in Hux’s room where he could properly protect him- and drink him in, devour him in a way that didn’t harm, but was almost as satisfying. A half hour passed before Hux let out a shuddering breath, then his body went limp as he finally relaxed, and fell asleep. Kylo lifted his head, tilting it as he watched Hux sleep, his sides rising and falling under the duvet, his red hair a mess on the pillow. Kylo dipped his muzzle and bumped at Hux’s jaw with his nose, a gentle, tender nuzzle of reassurance. He flicked out his tongue, licking his cheek- and tasted the tracks of salt. He whined softly, and Hux rolled over in his sleep. His arm reached out and draped over Kylo’s flanks, his fingers curling in his fur. He pressed his cheek against Kylo’s withers, and let out a sigh. Kylo twisted his neck with ease to lick at Hux’s cheek, nuzzling him before twisting his head back around to rest his muzzle on his forepaws. 

He spent the rest of the night, contentedly listening to Hux breathe, feeling his heartbeat against his back, and his fingers in his fur. Hux had a nightmare, and Kylo soothed him as best he could until Hux finally calmed again. As Hux curled close to him, for the first time since he’d first met that family of outcasts, Kylo felt content, because for the first time in over six hundred years, he had a purpose. His stomach gurgled as he digested his meal, and Kylo’s face lit up, white fangs flashing in the dark in a feral grin. 

His purpose had helped him find tonight’s meal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who will inevitably ask:
> 
> No. Kylo is not going to fall in love/bond with Rey. Rey is happy with her boys, and Kylo is still trying to reel in his first one, he won't be going after a mortal he isn't bonded to. 
> 
> Rey will inevitably end up tying ribbons on Kylo, though, and it will be hilarious.


	9. Who Let the Dog Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo tries to thank Finn, Rey and Poe for being nice- but terrifies them instead. Hux finds out hellhounds get morning wood, too. Kylo's impulsive act causes ripples across the community, and it causes backlash for Hux, exposing the darker underbelly of the quaint micropolitan area. Kylo surprises Hux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance, there are some transphobic slurs in this chapter, stated in a second-hand recollection as being reported to a police officer. There are also implied threats from police, and general ignorance involving transgender folks. Hux is never without support during the ordeal- he has Phasma to back him up- and is not in danger, and is not harmed. 
> 
> Also, there's mention of animal death, but no scene of the animal dying, only a scene with its carcass. 
> 
> I want to thank Vanemis EVER so much, for drawing fanart for this fic! The first piece was so perfectly in line with what I'd already written, that I stuck it right into the story! Thank you so much, bb!!! ♥
> 
> Lastly, there's a bit of a chapter overlap- last chapter ended with Hux falling asleep with Kylo in his bed. The beginning of this chapter is an interlude between Kylo going to hunt, and coming back home to Hux- and it resumes from there.

There was a decided and almost immovable silence as the three of them headed home, which weighed on them heavily, and uncomfortably, though nothing awkward or untoward had happened on the Woodhaven property. It was Finn who broke the silence as he turned the truck right onto Highway 32, announcing they should stop by the firehouse and see if things were stocked and staffed. 

Grateful for the break in the oppressive silence, Rey added she’d be happy to take a look at the fire trucks and the bus if needed, and Poe took the opportunity to check the roster in case there’d been call outs or rescheduling. The three scattered to help out, and put off talking about Woodhaven for a few hours. 

Turned out, yes, the bus needed looking at- one of the drivers commented they’d had to slam on the brakes _hard_ to avoid hitting something massive crossing the road the night before, and he worried about the brake pads and tires. Rey got right to work, crawling under the bus for a look- her slight wiry frame didn’t need a jack to get under the large, high-sitting vehicle. 

Finn helped move some heavier supplies from the closet to the bus- oxygen tanks, swapping out the gurneys for daily washing and changing of the bedding, and helped replenish basic medical supplies in the bus’ interior cabinets. He also helped sweep up the interior, and got things ready for the next shift. 

Poe went over the schedule and found there was an unaccounted for absence- one of the dispatchers wasn’t in. She was supposed to show an hour ago, and no one could get a hold of her. Poe frowned, looking at the name- Sally Lowall. Odd, as Sally was one of their most dependable dispatchers. 

Sure, being dispatcher for the Fish River volunteer station was not the most demanding or exciting, acting as a router between the main dispatch team in Fairhope and the two volunteer departments for the Four-Way and Marlow, but Sally also kept house at this particular station.

She was the Den-Mother, and ran the station with a loving, but iron fist that kept it running like clockwork, as only a single mother in the South could. Dispatch work aside, she kept the bunks clean, made sure everyone ate, even on a long night, and damn if she didn’t make the best coffee this side of the Fish River. 

Poe had once joked she was a second mother to everyone at the station, and for the younger folks, maybe it would give them a good second up-bringing. She’d only smiled sadly at him before mussing his hair. 

“If only I’d come into my own with my own daughter before it was too late. She turned out truly cruel, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, Mama Sal,” Poe had replied, using the beloved nickname. “It isn’t just the parent, it’s the people your kids associate with that can do that, too.”

He was referring, without naming, to Emileigh Lee, who was Codi’s best friend and was a cruel, spoiled and entitled girl who never failed to tell people how little she thought of them, or attempt to crush them in any way she could if they didn’t fit to a standard her own very rich and domineering parents held for the town. 

Naturally, the friends she kept didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her crushing heel, so they did and spoke as she did, and an entire sub-culture of cruelty and prejudice had become a fixture in the class of 2004. 

Poe had been lucky. He’d been athletic and charming, handsome and funny- his sarcasm and wit had often gotten laughs in class, but he never cut up enough to be labelled class clown. He was well groomed and empathetic, and took pride in his appearance- but was never over the top with it to be called out on preferring the same gender. All in all, he’d been in ‘good graces’ with Emileigh’s group, and hadn’t suffered abuses from them. 

What he saw them do to others, however, was what made him politely refuse socialising attempts from them. He stuck to his group, and was cordial if they crossed paths, but he wasn’t going to get absorbed by their clique and become cruel. He was better than that. 

He just wished he’d been better than even that, and had stuck up for kids like Hux. Some could fight back. Hux was one of those who couldn’t. 

“You can’t beat yourself up every day for things you couldn’t see at the time. All you can do is move forward and try to be better,” he’d told her- and he was taking that to heart now. 

She’d hugged him, pulling him close, and he’d hugged her back. Mama Sal was a thick, tall woman, with curves only a lifetime of Southern cooking could give, big grey eyes, and platinum blonde curls that everyone knew came from a bottle, but she was already a natural blonde, albeit a few shades darker, so what was the harm, really? 

She also had what everyone called a “honey and smoke” voice- low and rich in the throat, but sweet and warm- and was effective at soothing panicked people during dispatch calls. She had a wide mouth that always smiled, and was always sporting a bright red lipstick that she was a pro at keeping off her teeth. She just radiated a constant aura of competence and care, and was hard not to like.

Mama Sal was loved, even if her daughter turned out to be a right twat. If it had been anyone else missing their shift, grumbling would ensue, and the shift would be moved around while phone calls were made- depending on the open role. Mama Sal? No one could really do her job as well as she could.

She grew up between the suburbs and rural areas of the micropolitan area and knew each street by heart. She also knew practically everyone in the county from a mix of volunteer work and church going. If someone called in a panic and the main dispatch team couldn’t get the full address or name, they’d divert them to Sal. Just from the voice, from names in the background, and pieces of addresses, she’d know just who was on the line, and where to send the bus. 

Mama Sal Lowall was essential to the volunteer stations in the backwater woods- a lot of forest covered the ground between Fairhope’s Thomas Hospital, and the smaller towns like Silverhill, Marlow, Barnwell, Summerdale and Robertsdale. She knew every backroad- even those that were nothing more than red clay cut into the countryside and didn’t have signs. Sometimes buses couldn’t find their patients without her. 

“No one’s heard from Mama Sal?” Poe asked, shooting a concerned look at Nick, one of the volunteer fire fighters who was headed home. He shook his head, his long auburn hair in a rather stylish man-bun. 

“Called her a few times in the past ten minutes, left a bunch of voicemails, but she hasn’t replied,” he said, frowning around the toothpick in his mouth. “Not like her to no-call, no-show.”

“Yeah, I know,” Poe replied, frowning as well. “Did her daughter say anything?”

“Actually, she called this morning, saying Codi didn’t come home last night, it’s likely she could have gone to the police about it,” cut in George Santos as he came in from the garage to start his shift. 

He was an EMT- Puerto Rican, with a dazzling smile that had always made Poe weak in the knees during high school. They’d attempted dating when Poe had finally come out- they were physically attracted to one another, but decided they were better off as friends- with occasional benefits. 

Until Poe had met Finn, of course. Now the both of them were happily married, and the five of them- Poe, Finn, Rey, George and Dante often met up for dinners. It was nice having other non-heterosexual folks to talk to. The errant thought made Poe remind himself that perhaps he should introduce Hux to George and Dante, let him know there were more folks who wouldn’t give him crap for being trans- after all, Dante was a fellow trans man. 

Poe pulled his thoughts back to the present at George’s comment. 

“Doesn’t Codi do this a lot, though? She gets off work at the DMV, goes to the Pub downtown and drinks until the owner boots her out, she gets a room at the Baron’s Inn, sleeps it off and goes back to work, then comes home,” Poe countered. “Sal knows this.”

“Jeff said he hasn’t seen her in two days, so she wasn’t there,” George replied. “Though Brenda said something about Codi getting ugly with the new director of the funeral home, and he cancelled the consultation for Sal’s dad.” 

Poe rubbed at the bridge of his nose with thumb, index and middle finger. The joys of living in a small town- everyone knew everything by the end of the day when something happened. Brenda- a round faced woman who never stopped chewing gum unless she was smoking- worked at the DMV with Codi. She was also the wife of Jeff, the man who owned Baron’s. He paused, and looked up at George.

“Wait. You said something about the new funeral director?” he asked. 

“Yeah. He showed up to renew the tags on the hearses, and Codi got ugly with him, gave him a hard time. Brenda conveniently didn’t mention what about, but did a poor job of making it look like he was the one who started it. Anyway, he was so upset about whatever she said that he told her he was cancelling the consult for her grandpa’s services,” George said. “Codi got upset, and his assistant said something about ‘If we’re lucky, we’ll see you at _our_ work,’ or the like.”

“Who’s his assistant?” Finn asked. He’d heard more than enough as he came in from stocking and cleaning the bus. 

“Phasma Steele,” George said. “She owns the Pub.”

“Yeah that doesn’t look good for her, given that’s Codi’s favourite haunt if she ain’t havin a book club with Emileigh,” Poe said dryly. 

It was no secret amongst the locals that Codi and Emileigh were now in different circles- Codi was a full time worker with no steady relationships, no kids, while Emileigh was a stay at home mom who’d married one of the main local plastic surgeons. She had two kids- a boy and girl- a hysterectomy, and a husband who kept her dressed in designer clothes and driving her kids to soccer practice in an Escalade. 

She kept her maiden name as a reminder to the town of where she came from, and who her family was.

The two were worlds apart now, and only associated during monthly outings- which were usually with a few other people, as they didn’t have much in common anymore. Emileigh had all but dropped Codi when she failed to ascend to the same tax bracket, and only kept their relationship at a bare minimum in order to keep face in a small town. 

“She ain’t the only one who went missing. Heard John went missing, too.” George said.

“John? The guy that comes in and does repairs on the building?” Finn asked. 

“Yeah- heard he got in a work accident and was in the hospital for a month, but went MIA a few days ago.”

“Oh, THAT John? Yeah he was doing some work on the Woodhaven property, he got it in his head to fuck around in the ruins of the slaughterhouse and fell on some rebar, nearly gutted himself,” Poe said, remembering the call he’d been on, from this very station. 

“You said he’s missing?”

“From what I heard, yeah. His buddy Patrick said he hadn’t seen him in a few days,” George said. His tone went suspicious. 

“Odd, how two people who were involved with Woodhaven and its new proprietor ended up missing.”

“Naw. It’s bad luck, man, and don’t go spreading that kind of thing- his name is Sebastian Hux and he’s… he’s one of us, you know?” Poe said quietly, making sure no one else overheard. 

George tilted his head, and Poe leaned closer. 

“He’s like Dante.”

George’s eyes widened, and he nodded, going somber. 

“Yeah, yeah I get it- but that’s not what I meant. You know the rumours about that place. Not to mention the sightings. My dad told me someone crossed the last Hux, and next night, he sees this huge shadow running across his fields. In the morning, he sees at least half his cattle gutted, mutilated. People remember that- and then two people cross the new Hux, and they disappear? Makes people think there really is something on that land.”

They fell silent, and Poe was remembering how violently Hux had thrown the stone at the dog, how he’d all but snarled at it, saying it was an annoying stray… yet today, the dog had been practically glued to Hux’s hip- except when he had sniffed and licked at Rey. He’d even snoozed under the table, ignoring offers of bacon- and Poe had _never_ seen a dog refuse bacon, even BB8, who could wait for ten minutes with a treat balanced on his little nose before giving in. 

Then there was the fact that Kylo- an odd name for a dog- had never barked. His eyes followed everyone’s movements, not in the interested short attention span type of watching normal of dogs, but in an intense, almost inquisitive way. His coat was pure jet black, with no brown whatsoever, no red, no gold. Pure, monochrome black- even melanistic animals had some brown in their coats, their eyes or noses- his colour was unnatural. 

  
  


There had also been a squirrel that had run across the driveway, and Kylo didn’t even bother looking at it- too focused on Hux and Rey. Poe had never seen a sighthound ignore any kind of animal that could be chased, and that bothered him. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, but something about the dog put him off. 

The phone rang, breaking the silence and making them all jump. They laughed nervously, and Finn grabbed it, being closest to the phone. 

“Fish River Fire Rescue, EMT Finn Dameron speaking,” he said formally and clearly. 

“Oh, Finn, I’m so sorry I didn’t call,” said the unmistakable voice of Mama Sal from the other end. “I’ve been at the police station and I’ve been answerin’ so many questions I didn’t have time to call y’all about comin’ in late!”

“You’re at the police station? Is this about Codi?” Finn asked, and everyone in the room was quiet, listening. 

“She didn’t come home last night, and no one has seen her! Brenda and Jeff didn’t see her at Baron’s, and that tall woman- Phasma- the owner of the Pub, said she came in like usual, but she left and no one else has seen her!”

Her voice cut off into a small cry. 

“No one knows where my girl is!”

“Hey, hey, Mama Sal, listen,” Finn soothed. “You don’t worry about coming in, okay? You stay at home in case Codi needs you.”

“You sure, hon?”

“Positive. Stay home. Take care of yourself and wait for your daughter, okay? Call us if you need anything,” Finn reassured her. 

“Thanks, hon. Thank you.”

Finn hung up the phone and looked at Poe. 

“Well, Mama Sal isn’t coming in.”

“I figured,” Poe replied. 

“George, do you want either of us to fill in for Sal?” Finn asked

“I’ll stay for her shift, the only other person who can do it just went home from a double,” George replied. “But thanks. I know you two pulled triples last week, and from the look of Finn’s truck, you were helping Rey with a job. Go home and SLEEP, maybe have an actual meal that isn’t frozen or take-out, yeah?”

“Bus and trucks are good!” Rey announced, coming in with more oil smeared over her face and hands. She saw Finn and Poe headed to the door, and held up her hands. 

“We leaving already?” she asked. 

“Yeah, things are wrapped up here. Let’s go home, walk BB8, and cook an actual meal with more than one course- that isn’t breakfast,” Poe said, seeing Rey open her mouth to counter- likely about the breakfast they’d had. 

“So the lunch Hux made us didn’t count, either?” Rey asked as they headed back to the truck. 

“No, no it did not,” Finn said as they all got into the cab. “It was delicious, but we didn’t cook it."

Rey laughed, and the cab fell into companionable silence as they headed back down Highway Nine. The sun was setting, the shadows of the trees falling across the road. Rey rolled down the window, sticking her hand out and trailing her fingers in the cooling air, and Poe, sitting in the middle, rested his head against her shoulder. 

“Don’t,” he teased as she reached up to stroke his hair. “You’ll get grease and oil in my pretty, pretty hair.”

Rey and Finn laughed. 

They were deeper in the woods now, and there was only a bit of red and gold light filtering between the tree tops, the rest of the road shrouded in darkness. Finn grumbled, turning on the truck’s headlights, casting the road in warm yellow-white light that cut through the rapidly growing darkness. 

“Is it just me or did the sunset barely last five minutes?” he asked aloud. 

Rey was about to respond, when Finn suddenly swore, slamming the brakes. Rey and Finn jerked forward, also swearing out loud as the massive shadow leapt across the road- and a loud thud was heard. 

“Did we hit something?” Poe asked, his voice strained. “Jesus, it got dark quickly, it’s only six, why is it already so dark? The sun was just going down a few minutes ago!” 

“You two alright?” Finn asked, more concerned about his loved ones than anything he might have hit. They nodded, but were clearly shaken. 

Rey looked at the road and gasped. 

“Oh no, a deer!”

In the road lay a buck, sprawled on its side. It was still, no movement, its sides not rising or falling. Poe and Finn immediately got out of the truck and approached cautiously- their EMT instinct to help taking the fore. 

Rey got out, but headed to the bed of the truck for the handle to one of the jacks. She’d heard one too many horror stories that went this way- and not just horror, but stories of deer coming to after being struck and goring their would-be helpers. 

Finn knelt by the deer, seizing the antlers and putting weight gently on them, angling himself so that should the deer rear up, the antlers wouldn’t gore anyone. The buck was young, and his antlers only had four points, but even a doe would be dangerous in close quarters. 

Rey approached with the tire iron and jack handle, and stood ready to give the deer a whack to the head, should it move. Finn pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything, and Poe moved to take the deer’s pulse- and found he didn’t have to. 

“Oh Jesus, Finn, get up!” He cried. 

Finn leapt up, letting go of the antlers- and just barely avoided getting soaked in the blood that was pooling under the deer from the gash on the side of its neck that had been pressed onto the highway and hidden by the stark shadows cast by the F350’s headlights. 

Rey yelped and skittered back. Finn gaped, eyes agog.

“I didn’t do this, did I? No way that was done by the truck!”

Rey circled the truck, paying close attention to the grill, and made a sound of agreement.

“Trooper’s unscathed, but you might have made a small bald patch on the tires with that sudden stop- had to tell in the dark,” she confirmed, then made a placating gesture at Finn’s dismayed look.

“Trooper’s fine, promise, babe.”

Poe stood up, running fingers through his hair in confusion. He shook his head, completely befuddled. 

“I don’t get it,” he said, clearly shaken. “This wasn’t here… until it was, and we didn’t hit it.”

“Shame we don’t know how it died- that’s a waste of good venison,” Rey said from the back of the truck- she was putting the tools back into the toolbox. Finn and Poe laughed weakly. Rey, always thinking with her stomach. 

“Let’s move it off the road,” Finn said. “Rey, get some gloves?”

She rummaged around in the med supply chest and produced three pairs of gloves, tossing a pair to her boyfriends. The trio donned them, and gathered around the deer carcass. Poe took the hind legs, Finn grabbed forelegs, and Rey took the head. 

“One, two, heave!”

The three lifted the deer and scuttled awkwardly off the road with the carcass and deposited it onto the gentle downslope of grass leading into the ditch. They let it drop carefully, and pulled off their gloves, Finn collecting them to dispose of in the truck’s trashbag. 

“Well. That was creepy. Let’s not do that again, yeah?” Poe asked as he and Finn headed for the truck. “Let’s go home, Rey. I’m thinking we just order pizza after that.”

Rey didn’t answer. Poe and Finn turned, frowning. 

“Rey?” Finn called. 

Rey was rooted to the spot. Her entire body was tense and quivering. 

“Something moved in the woods. Something big,” she whispered, and all three noticed how her breath steamed in the night air- and it registered that the temperature was dropping rapidly. 

A crack sounded through the woods- not the sound of a twig snapping, but the protest of a branch as something pushed it past its limits as something big enough to reach it shoved its way past. 

All three were frozen now, their breath creating rolling clouds that billowed and unfurled upwards towards the sky, as the sound of foliage being crushed got louder and louder. 

Rey screamed. A truly terrified, blood curdling and panicked _scream_. 

Between the trees, in a patch of light from the nearly-full moon, a skull peered at them, glowing red eyes studying them. Massive, looming and ancient, it stared at them, moonlight glittering on its fangs, the crimson eyes burning like embers in its sockets. Steaming breath roiled from between its jaws, which parted slowly with a creak. 

No sound escaped its mouth, and the errant, terrifying thought that ran through their minds, as one, was _It almost looks like it’s_ **_smiling._ **

**__ **

It was Finn who broke free of the terror first. He lunged forward, grabbing Rey by the back of her coveralls, then Poe, by his hand, and he dragged them almost bodily back to the truck. They regained their wits as soon as Finn had them moving, and none of them needed any encouragement to clamber into the truck, slamming doors shut. 

Finn put the truck in drive and floored it. The tires screamed, smoke spun from the tires as they fought for traction, and then the truck shot down the highway like it had the hounds of hell chasing it.

For all the occupants of the truck knew, they literally _were_. 

“Is it following?” Finn asked after he’d made the curve past Woodhaven, and tried not to think about how close to the property they’d seen the thing, how they’d just been talking about odd things happening involving that place….

“Nothing,” Rey said, twisted around as best she could with her seatbelt on. “There’s nothing following us.”

“What the HELL was that?” Poe exploded, his face pale and ashen, his hands shaking as he reached for the water bottle in the cup holder. He managed to spill water all down his front before he managed a long sip, then offered it to Rey and Finn, who declined. 

“It was a _skull_ of something- something HUGE,” Rey said, her voice weak, almost dismayed. Perhaps this was not what she’d been hoping for when she’d dreamed about finding odd things about Woodhaven. 

“Yeah but of what? It had fangs but that nose, the horns- I didn’t see them, but I saw the base of horns of some sort. Wolves don’t have horns,” Finn put in.

“Wolves, deer, whatever, none of them have glowing red eyes, are that big… or MOVE WHEN THEY’RE DEAD AND HAVE NO FLESH ON THEIR HEADS, does it MATTER what it was?” Poe said hysterically. 

Rey, who was calming down the farther away they got without seeing any signs of pursuit, leaned back into her seat and frowned. 

“It didn’t chase us… and it looked like it was… almost smiling at us? Finn… Poe… I think it dropped the deer there for us,” she said quietly. Finn and Poe glanced at her- or rather, Finn glanced, then looked back at the road, while Poe stared outright. 

“Why? As bait?” Poe demanded. Rey shook her head. 

“I think it was trying to say we are welcome on its territory… because we’re nice to Hux. We were technically on the edge of the Woodhaven property- its territory. Maybe it saw we were nice to Hux today, and wanted to say it wouldn’t hurt us,” she theorised. 

“That’s not how you say ‘I won’t hurt you,’ that’s like… a mafia type threat, Rey,” Poe retorted. 

Rey shook her head again.

“Wolves, cats, they bring kills to their families, their mates, their allies. It’s a way to say ‘I like you enough to share food with you that I took the time to hunt.’ It’s a way of showing solidarity and friendship.”

“We uh. We don’t need to be friends with a monster that lurks in the woods, throwing out deer carcasses at people, Rey,” Finn said, eyes on the road, turning on his left turn signal as they came near Highway 48. 

For a moment, the only sound was the blinker clicking rhythmically, and the thrum of the truck’s engine as they fell into silence, each of them trying to digest what they thought may have happened. 

“I’m just saying. It could have closed the distance between us quickly, given its size,” Rey finally said. “And it didn’t. It’s scary, but I don’t think we are in danger from it. Not directly.”

“I’d rather not think about it at all,” Finn said, and Poe nodded fervently. “In fact, let’s stay away from Woodhaven, yeah? Next time, we get Hux to come to you.”

“Nothing happened while we were there, that’s hardly fair to Hux,” Rey protested. “And we don’t know that it is tied to Woodhaven!”

“Oh, all of a sudden you think there’s nothing wrong with the land after years of wanting to explore it because of rumours and local legends of it being haunted?” Poe asked. 

“All of a sudden, after years of telling me there’s nothing there and one afternoon there with no incident, you say it’s dangerous?” Rey countered.

“Let’s order some pizza. We’ll all feel better once we get home, have a hot shower, and get some pizza and beer in our stomachs,” Finn said soothingly. 

He knew the other two weren’t mad at each other, only scared and unsure of how to process what had happened, and their hot headed natures made them spar verbally. His method of processing was to soothe and provide for his loved ones.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Rey finally admitted, going slack and leaning back in the seat again. 

“Just make sure we get one with Alfredo sauce as well as a regular,” Poe agreed, and Rey’s eyes lit up in the soft blue light of the truck interior. 

“Extra Alfredo sauce, with feta and garlic!” She said eagerly- all too eager to think about dinner and not the thing they saw in the woods. 

“Absolutely,” Finn said somberly, handing his phone to Poe. “Make it a deep dish, too. We’ll also get a regular pepperoni with extra cheese and an order of garlic bread. Sound good? We have some hard cider and Blue Moon in the fridge to go with it.”

Poe opened Finn’s app for the local pizza place- Ravenite- and ordered their supper. 

“Forty-five minutes til delivery,” he announced. 

“And by that time,” Finn replied, “we’ll be showered and ready to snuggle on the couch with pizza, netflix, and beer and we can think about this scary bullshit tomorrow in the daylight. Right?”

Poe and Rey made sounds of agreement, and the truck returned to the silence that had led to their horrifying encounter, and though it was amicable, there was still a note of fear and uncertainty that followed them all the way home. 

* * *

Kylo watched the truck tear down the road, his ears wilting a little. The deer had been a gift to the three humans. They’d helped Hux fix the damage he’d caused to Hux’s beloved car- though that had been intentional. 

He’d realised during his argument with Hux that he’d overreacted by killing Codi. He considered what Codi had said to him, and decided that it would help Hux if it looked as though someone had targeted him for being different. 

Which was why he’d also made sure that at least one person saw John at Baron’s before he stalked him and killed him. 

Kylo huffed and slid from the trees to retrieve the deer carcass. He scooped it up in his jaws and carried it back into the woods. Using his massive paws and claws, he dug into the rotting leaves and soil to create a cache. He dumped the carcass into the hole and covered it with stones and forest detritus. 

He’d return for it later- he only liked freshly killed meat when it was human. Animal flesh needed to rot to get flavour. 

His kill stored for later, he headed back home to Hux. He pondered how to properly kill and butcher a deer- and deliver it- to the nice humans who had helped his human. 

Kylo stopped in his tracks at the thought. 

**_His_ ** _human._

When had he gone from _his prey_ to _his human_?

When “his human” had bonded his blood to Kylo’s, that’s when. 

He looked up at the moon. It was almost full. Had it really been two months already since he’d first attempted to break into Hux’s home, had drooled over getting his first noseful of his scent, and scared the literal piss out of the human. 

Now…

Now he wanted to protect this human. To make sure no one hurt him. 

And if that meant killing half the town to do so, he would. 

He headed back home and saw that Hux had left the window open. Kylo leapt onto the roof and poked his head in. Hux was half awake, had welcomed him in, and he’d invited him to come sleep on the bed- much to Kylo's delight. 

Kylo wanted to devour him, pull him into his jaws and swallow him, taste his flesh and blood, but he settled for his other instinct- which was to shift to his dog form, and pad across the floor to the bed. He curled up against Hux, who fell asleep- and then snuggled close. 

Kylo sighed, and went to sleep, happy and warm with his human. 

No less than an hour later, he was awakened by Hux whimpering in his sleep. He murmured things that Kylo didn’t understand, and he thrashed, fighting something- or someone. Kylo whined and tried licking his face, but Hux only pushed his long snout aside, unable to wake from his nightmare. 

He tilted his head, considering what Hux was wearing- boxer briefs, and nothing else. There was a soft, shushing sound as smoke curled around him, his form shifting to human, wearing boxer briefs, similar to Hux’s. 

He slid closer to his human and pulled him into his arms. Hux shivered- the blankets had been pushed away in his thrashing, exposing his sweaty skin, and the evening was cool. Kylo’s cold flesh coming in contact with his didn’t help, either. Kylo pulled the blankets over the both of them, and lay there on his back, waiting for Hux’s proximity to warm his body. 

Once held tightly to Kylo’s broad chest, Hux calmed considerably, and pressed against Kylo’s side, draping his arm over his ribs, relaxing as Kylo's muscles slowly warmed.

Delighted, Kylo pulled him closer so he was resting on his chest. Hux nuzzled into his chest, murmuring in his sleep, his body finally relaxing, and Kylo wrapped his arm around his human’s shoulders. 

“Mine,” Kylo growled softly, pressing his lips to Hux’s hair. He opened his mouth, fangs gently grazing Hux’s scalp, and his tongue darted out, licking his skin. Hux, sound asleep and content with his hellhound pillow, snoozed on, the nightmare over. 

“Mine. Safe with me, my human,” Kylo rumbled in his chest, and closed his eyes, falling back into a contented doze. 

* * *

Sunlight filtered in through the gap in the curtains of Hux’s room and fell across his face. Hux stirred, slowly rising through the mire of sleep, but his level of comfort kept trying to pull him back down in the blissful embrace of unconsciousness. 

In a detached way, he was aware of the softness of his bed, the soothing weight of his blankets, and the warmth that wrapped around him. He nestled into the warmth of his firm body pillow, curling his legs around it, and inhaling the comforting scent. 

His eyes flew open, waking up fully with a start as he remembered he had thrown away his body pillow last week, as he’d flattened it after a year of restless sleep, and that the scent in his nostrils was not entirely the warm smell of his bed. 

His eyes were met with the sight of a broad pale chest spattered with beauty marks a mere inch from his nose. 

Inhaling sharply, Hux went still, and took inventory of his situation.

He was on his side, and Kylo was on his, facing him. The hellhound’s human arm was draped over his torso, large hand resting on his back, heavy, warm and comforting. His other arm was under Hux’s head and neck, supporting it. His legs were tangled with Hux’s, their bodies entwined under the duvet. 

That in of itself was soothing, comforting, and Hux would have been more than content to ignore why Kylo had gone from dog to human, snuggle back into Kylo’s chest and fall back asleep with his arms around him and his breath stirring his hair. 

That infuriating scent of his was making him drowsy, hungry and greedy for more of him, to drown in his warmth and go back to sleep. There was still an edge of fear that tickled his brain from the bad things his nose picked up, but the comfort was overriding the unease. 

He couldn’t ignore the hard throbbing against his stomach, however- or the responding ache between his legs. Damned morning issues- Hux had started having this issue after a few years of testosterone, and this paired with the increased libido was something he was still getting used to- he hadn’t been particularly amourous before his transition, and this new level of physical need was disconcerting, even if it was mildly validating. 

But right now, it was the last thing he needed when there was a creature with an incredible sense of smell in his bed, curled around him- with his own arousal digging into his lower abdomen. 

_Jesus Fucking Christ that is a huge cock,_ was all Hux could think as he tried to shift, to break contact with at least that part of Kylo’s human body. 

He rolled over to his other side, hoping it would wake Kylo and they could both get up, pretend nothing happened, and go about their day. This only exacerbated the situation- as Hux rolled over, Kylo drew him closer, and Hux’s rump pressed against Kylo’s hips, and his erection pressed the underside of his ass, dangerously close to his increasingly warm crotch.. 

Kylo rumbled something in his sleep and buried his face into the back of Hux’s neck, growling and purring all at once- a sleepy, contented sound deep in his chest that sent vibrations running through Hux’s body and did not help the situation in any way what-so-ever. 

There was a definite dilemma rising in Hux’s mind about all of this. 

Kylo was wearing a human skin- a perfectly tailored human suit, he thought in amusement, recalling one of his favourite lines from his favourite show. The mild parallel didn’t escape him, that of a killer who ate humans and wore a human suit to appear harmless while trying to get under the skin of the vulnerable human he desired. 

_For fuck’s sake, this isn’t Hannibal, this is a goddamn … sort of living, breathing monster who can take human form. He eats people, his true form is as big as a motorhome with a skull for a face, he literally wanted to skin you alive with his tongue before he found out you have the same blood he swore to protect almost six centuries ago._

Kylo churred again, nuzzling and huffing against the skin between Hux’s shoulder blades, and a shudder ran down his spine, ending in the intensifying heat of his groin. 

_And this creature… this hellhound, whatever he is… he said he’d protect you since he physically cannot harm or eat you… he’s very much not. Human._

Kylo’s muscular arms tightened around him, pulling his back flush against his chest and toned abdomen- which was very slightly distended, and gurgled softly, as though he’d just eaten a large meal. This drove the horror home in Hux’s mind. 

_And I have no idea what he might have eaten._ **_Who_ ** _he might have eaten._

The arms around him, the legs tangled with his, the lips and nose pressed against his back, they were all human shaped, and felt so good against him, around him. They felt _safe._

_He’s not human. This is like a piece of clothing he wears. He runs on four legs and has a tail. So why am I so turned on? Why does this feel normal to me in some way?_

Kylo’s hands were running over Hux’s chest, his fingers trailing over the scars under his pectorals- pectorals that while were not _nearly_ as defined as Kylo’s, they were his, and Hux had worked hard to get them there. Hux held his breath, unsure if Kylo was awake and knowingly stroking the scars that marked him as a rebel against nature, a shapeshifter in his own right, or if Kylo was still asleep and was unconsciously stroking the scars without thinking. 

Both options appealed to him. 

_He doesn’t care that you’re trans because he’s ‘other,’ too._

Hux had never had many relationships, too insecure about his gender and too self loathing of his own body. For a time, he’d tried to force excess femininity out of himself, thinking if he overdid it, tried hard enough, it would click. He had flings, slept with men and women alike, trying to figure himself out- was he a lesbian? Was he bi? Was he just not trying hard enough? Or was there really something wrong with him? 

It resulted in at least one broken heart, one bout of the clap, an HPV scare, two cases of trauma he still wasn’t sure he was entirely over- one of which he had all but suppressed, only visiting it when deep in drink, and ended up screaming at the mirror over, because he still didn’t know if trying to grieve over it invalidated his gender, and if it did, did that invalidate his trauma? The brandy couldn’t tell him. Therapy couldn’t either, as all his therapists had been cis, and didn’t know how to approach it. 

_Why do you care if he’s human, when you so clearly aren’t one, either? Who could be, as broken as you are?_

Hux twisted to look over his shoulder at Kylo, his depressing thoughts effectively killing his arousal. He immediately met Kylo’s half open eyes, which were a soft, rich amber-brown in the morning light. He smiled slightly, his full lips parting to show a glint of fang, and Hux felt his heart skip in his chest. Kylo’s expression was relaxed, sleepy, his hair a mess over the pillow and falling into his face. The sunlight played a golden halo around the curves of his body, and Hux was struck at how beautiful he was, and how _natural_ it felt to see him lying in his bed as if he belonged there. 

“M-morning,” he stammered.

“Morning,” Kylo said softly, his voice thick with sleep. He pulled away from Hux and rolled onto his back. With a soft churr, he _stretched_ , his arms reaching above his head, his back arching, legs going taut, and his toes curling in the air- the bed was not long enough to contain a fully stretched out Kylo. 

All the while, his joints popped and cracked in a way that made Hux envious of how good that undoubtedly felt 

Kylo closed his eyes and yawned, his mouth opening impossibly wide, sharp teeth flashing and his pink tongue curling in a very inhuman way. The long curling tongue, the many, many sharp teeth- there were very few human teeth in his mouth- the way his mouth opened so wide… 

Hux looked away from his mouth, and swore mentally as his eyes fell on the broad chest, the toned abdomen with the full belly, and the very defined hip bones above the line of sheets. There was also a line of black fur- not hair, Hux realised--running from his navel down towards his groin and likely continued around his crotch, but his hips were blessedly covered by the sheets. 

_Can still see the tent he’s popped, though. Fuck, that’s one impressive boner._

“So uh… you went human,” Hux said awkwardly. 

Kylo snapped his jaws shut with a wet click and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. Hux flushed. Seeing him shirtless, so casually reclining in his blankets, drowsy and content after spending the night curled around him was jarringly intimate and familiar- and less than two months ago, this very creature had tried to _eat him._

Yet Hux wasn’t afraid of him- not for his own safety, in any case. He was still afraid of the true form he had, of the raw power, the sheer size, the terrifying visage, and the knowledge of what he’d done with those wicked teeth…

Yet, he felt no threat to his own well-being, lying there in bed together with Kylo. In fact, with Kylo’s drowsy face, his stupid, scary-sexy scent now all over the bed and in his blankets, the weight of his body a mere breath away, Hux felt safe, even content. 

No one could hurt him as long as Kylo was there beside him. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Kylo said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, his fingers curled almost like a paw. Hux halfway expected him to lick it and groom himself. 

“I have them a lot,” Hux admitted. “If you change to human form every time I have one, you’ll never leave it when you stay with me.”

“It helped you when I held you,” Kylo said, lowering his hand and fixing Hux with his intense brown eyes. “You were terrified. I wanted to make you feel safe, and licking your face as the dog, offering you the ruff of my neck to snuggle into wasn’t enough. So I chose my human form and held you. You went back to sleep.”

Hux flushed even brighter, and Kylo ignored it. He could smell the shame on Hux, and didn’t want to rub it in- not when he was trying, so very hard, to be good, to prove he wanted to protect his human. 

_I’d almost say ‘curse this human for binding us’ but that’s what got me in this whole situation in the first place,_ Kylo thought in irritation. 

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, swallowing his irritation. 

“I’m fine, but I’m- _shit._ ”

Kylo frowned as Hux glanced at his clock and bolted out of bed. He watched as Hux pulled on underclothes, then yanked a suit out of the closet and wrestled into it, swearing all the while. 

“Um?” 

“Going to be late for work,” Hux replied, using a shoehorn to wrangle his foot into his leather shoes. He raced into the bathroom and did a quick gelling of his hair, touching it up with a comb, then brushed his teeth. 

Kylo got up, his form swirling and going nebulous, then reforming into the Shuck- that’s what Hux decided to call him from that point, because he wasn’t really a dog, and he knew it.

“Don’t you _own_ the funeral parlour? I would think you could afford to be late,” he said, sitting on his haunches, twisting to furiously scratch behind one of his ears with a hind paw. 

“I have to be fair to Phasma, Maetra and Dopheld, Kylo,” Hux said, not unkindly, and without thinking, shoved Kylo’s paw away to scratch behind his ear with well manicured nails. Kylo churred, closing his eyes and made to lean against Hux’s leg, but he was stopped by a gentle hand to his withers.

“Later, you spoiled puppy,” Hux said softly. “You’ll get fur on my suit.”

“Let me go with you,” Kylo said suddenly, unsure why he was asking, but was asking all the same. 

“What on earth will you do all day? I’ll be behind my desk doing consults and paperwork, and I can’t let you into the funeral home, Kylo,” Hux said, bewildered. 

“I don’t have to be inside, I will lurk in the bushes, go for a stroll around town. I could even do some eavesdropping on the locals, see if I hear anything about Codi, and use it to our advantage,” Kylo replied, curling one side of his muzzle in disappointment in being denied cuddling access to Hux’s leg. 

“That’s… not a bad idea. Okay, fine, but you have to be good, understand?” Hux said firmly. 

“I have to be good during the day. This form is all I can take in sunlight,” Kylo replied. 

“So you can’t take the human form at all?” Hux asked, mildly disappointed, the very intrusive thought of wandering around downtown with Kylo’s beautiful human form on his arm entering his mind. 

“Cloudy winter days, yes. Late summer, near autumn days with clear skies? Never. Too bright, too hot, too painful,” Kylo said, his distaste for the sun clear. 

Hux had never liked the sun much, either- made too many freckles pop up on his skin- if he didn’t burn. He’d also worked a graveyard during his years with the military, and liked the quiet of night. It also helped lessen his chances of being harassed in the days of his transition where he didn’t pass as well- less people out at night. 

Kylo had made him afraid of the dark again after that first awful night, but now… he was starting to love it again. 

“Okay, but you have to ride in the car,” Hux said. “If you keep pace with the car, people will notice.”

He headed downstairs, Kylo sitting there in confusion, ears perked. 

“Ride? In the car?”

It had been over a century since he’d seen the first automobile, and had never ridden in one. He had no need, no desire, no reason to do so. He could travel faster than any car, sometimes faster than planes, if he travelled on cloudy, new moon nights, leaping through shadows across great distances as his boundaries would allow him. 

But ride? In a car?

Never.

He finally broke his shocked stupor and padded downstairs, his claws clicking on the hardwood floor. Hux was packing a tupperware of leftovers into a lunch bag, along with a thermos of iced tea. He grabbed the keys off the hook by the door, and nodded at Kylo- who noticed that along with his suit jacket, he had blankets draped over his arm. 

“Come on, Kylo,” he said, holding the door open for him. 

Kylo bounded outside into the grassy lawn, and approached the car as Hux locked the door behind him. He eyed the black metal beast warily. He knew cars were not alive, but they still felt like an inorganic, unnatural animal to him. 

“I’m going to have you sit in the back, so you can stretch out,” Hux said, opening the left side doors. He tossed his lunch into the front seat, tucked the thermos into the cupholder, then spread the blankets over the back seat- the bottom and back.

“There you go. Seats are leather, figured they’d be hot.”

“And because you don’t want my claws scuffing the leather?” Kylo asked, approaching the open back left door, sniffing the car’s interior cautiously. 

“Of course,” Hux said. At least he didn’t try to hide his obsession with keeping the car pristine. 

Kylo held up a paw for Hux to see, and when he saw Hux was looking, he retracted his claws. Hux blinked.

“But-”

“Normal dogs can’t do that. I am not a dog,” Kylo replied, leaping onto the backseat and lying down. 

The seat was warm, and he was grateful for the blanket. The heated leather likely would have been uncomfortable, so he wasn’t too mad about the blanket. The interior of the car smelled of leather, warm sunlight, traces of clove cigarettes that came from Hux only smoking with the windows down. It also smelled of Hux- of his sweat, his hair gel, shoe polish, his cologne. It also smelled of Hux’s bedroom, very strongly of his bed.

The blanket had come from the foot of the bed, Kylo realised, and he shoved his long snout against it, inhaling deeply, his tail wagging. Hux shut the doors of the car, got into the driver’s seat, and started the Phantom. 

Kylo was distracted by the familiar scents of Hux’s room, and barely noticed the low thrum and vibration of the well-tuned engine. Hux let out a small sound of appreciation. 

“Oh, Leta, you are purring today. Rey did a good job, didn’t she?” he asked softly, patting the steering wheel. 

Kylo tried not to be jealous of the car at that moment. After all, it had been his fault that the Phantom had needed a mechanic in the first place. He bunched the blanket between his forelegs and shoved his snout into it. The car could get some sweet talk, he supposed.

He slept in Hux’s bed. The car did not. 

Hux put the car in drive, and headed towards town. Kylo jolted as the car started to move, and despite himself, he whined, ears flattening back against his head. Hux glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

“You okay?”

“Not entirely sure I like moving without… actually moving,” Kylo said uncertainly, watching the scenery go by. 

Keeping his eyes on the road, Hux reached backwards between the front seats, holding his hand out towards Kylo. Unsure how to feel- grateful and touched were certainly some of his feelings- Kylo pushed his head under Hux’s hand, closing his eyes and feeling centered as his fingers pushed through the fur, over the dome of his skull and behind his ears, scratching and stroking soothingly. 

“Thank you,” Kylo murmured, and the two rode in companionable silence all the way into town. 

* * *

Hux was very unhappy and disconcerted to find two police cars in front of the funeral home. One a standard patrol car, the other a black unmarked SUV with a blue police plate. 

He was even more unhappy, because the unmarked vehicle was parked in his space- that was clearly marked as “Director.”

“Kylo… did you eat someone else?” Hux asked softly. 

“If I did, law enforcement wouldn’t immediately come after you, because I don’t leave evidence,” Kylo replied. 

“That wasn’t a no,” Hux groaned, getting out of the car and opening the door for Kylo. He hopped out, claws clicking on the asphalt of the parking lot.

“Be good, Kylo. Stay out of trouble,” Hux told him. 

Kylo gave him a Look, then trotted off, slinking around the corner of the building and into the bushes, disappearing completely. Hux had the feeling he wouldn’t go far, in case Hux needed him. 

He pulled his jacket from the hanger and donned it- along with his game face- gathered his lunch and thermos, drew himself up, then strode inside, locking the car with his fob. 

Immediately, two police officers and a woman in a navy blue pantsuit turned from talking to Phasma to face him. Hux stopped ten feet away from them and met their scrutinising gazes- gazes that said Hux was not what they had been expecting, gazes that were scouring him for details they thought they might have missed, or were trying to compare with a description they had been given that was incorrect.

They had been expecting a stereotype, and were thrown off when what appeared to be a cis man walked through the doors.

The woman was short, with short black hair in a severe A-line bob, a sharp shrewd face and cold blue eyes. One officer was heavy-set, but not from fat- he was built like a linebacker, with buzzed blonde hair and grey eyes set a tad too close together in his wide face. The other officer was an older man, with grizzled salt and pepper hair in a crew cut, his hazel eyes narrow and judgemental, his thin wide mouth slightly too big for his long, narrow face. 

“Director Hux?” the woman asked. 

“Are you here to report some illicit parking?” Hux asked with the barest of smirks, and only a small amount of irritated sarcasm. 

The woman had the grace to blush slightly, but didn’t apologise. The officers shifted a bit, but made no move to apologise, either. Hux let his microscopic smirk turn into a saccharine smile. 

“What can I do for you, officers?” he asked cordially, inflecting his voice with a little of the Southern drawl he’d been suppressing for a decade. 

“I’m Captain Regina Pryce, this is Sergeant Ipswich and Officer Grant. We came to ask you a few questions regarding a missing persons report,” the woman said.

“Witnesses say you were one of the last few people to speak to them- Codi Lowall.”

Pryce motioned to Hux’s office.

“May we speak in your office? For privacy?”

Hux, still smiling, nodded and motioned to Phasma. Pryce shook her head. 

“Alone, please.”

Hux’s smile vanished and it was replaced with the mask of military parade inspection readiness. 

“Phasma was present when I spoke to Ms Codi Lowall, she is a witness and can corroborate on my statement. Also, I will not be going into my office alone with three armed officers without my assistant director present, unless you are here to arrest me,” Hux said firmly. 

He fixed them with a stare. 

“Are you? Here to arrest me?”

Pryce gave him a placating smile, raising her hands in reassurance- which only lifted her jacket to expose the standard service pistol on her hip. 

“We’re only here to question you, to see if you have any idea of her whereabouts,” she said soothingly.

“If that is the case, why would I need to be alone in my office with three armed officers?” Hux retorted. “I am willing to answer questions, but I will not be intimidated and bullied.”

“We just want to ensure your privacy, Director,” Grant said, an attempt to help his superior make Hux feel at ease, but his tone was gruff and curt. 

“We could talk here, as you can see, we are far from busy,” Hux quipped irritably, waving his hand at the empty parlour. 

“So you have no one else here?” Ipswich said almost sarcastically. “No one else that you wouldn’t mind hearing about this?”

“My mortician is in the back with a client,” Hux said dryly, “but I doubt either of them will overhear, as she is prepping him for embalming.”

Grant turned green, and Hux wondered how long the man had been on the force, but dismissed it- surely the police of this small town rarely dealt with the dead. 

“Perhaps the consultation room will be a good compromise?” Phasma suggested. “Large table for everyone to sit around, and I have a pot of coffee already brewed in there.”

_Bless you,_ Hux wanted to say, but he nodded his agreement, and saw to his relief, the officers seemed to think this a good idea. Coffee would give everyone something to do with their hands, ease some tension. 

They all filed into the room, and Phasma poured coffee into styrofoam cups. They all sat, Ipswich and Grant reaching for sugar and creamer from the basket in the middle of the table and coming back with three or more of each. Pryce took two sugars, no cream, and the room was silent as they stirred their coffee.

Hux and Phasma waited, sipping their black, sugarless coffee with blank faces- and Hux once again felt a sharp pang of camaraderie towards Phasma, as well as appreciation that she took her coffee black, no sugar like he did. 

“No sugar, Director? Assistant Director?” Pryce asked by means of trying to start the conversation over in a friendly manner. 

“I like my coffee like I like my wife- hot, dark and bitter,” Phasma said dryly, and Hux couldn’t resist himself. He wordlessly, without breaking gazes with the officers, extended his fist towards Phasma, and she bumped it emphatically- her gaze likewise never leaving the officers. 

“My wife is the mortician,” Phasma said, as if explaining something that should have been painfully obvious when noticing the expressions on the officers’ faces. Instead of defending her relationship as a woman married to a woman to the obvious disapproving officers, she treated them as woefully ignorant children who had to have things explained to them. 

“Ah, I see, Gallows Humour,” Pryce said after clearing her throat. She pulled a pen and notepad from her jacket pocket and levelled a look at Hux. 

“So, when did you last see Codi Lowall, Director?” she asked. 

“The day before yesterday at the DMV,” Hux replied.

“And why were you there, Director?”

“To renew the tags on the hearses.”

“And your Assistant Director was with you?”

“I stated that earlier, when you wanted me alone in my office with three armed officers,” Hux said evenly, and Pryce looked up, irritated, and doing her best to hide it. 

“Director, there’s no need to be hostile, we simply were trying to respect you by looking to secure your privacy,” she said calmly.

“You can respect me by calling me Hux, or Sir. Or is that not something you can do after speaking to Ms Lowall’s coworker before me?” Hux asked nastily, his temper running short. 

“We can’t-”

“Can’t go into details, yes, yes, I know the legal process, I handle legal processes all the time in this field,” Hux cut her off. 

“Spare me, I’m not an idiot. If you were truly going by legal process and adhering to said legality, you would have no issue calling me Sir, as that is what is on all of my identifying paperwork. You spoke to the coworker first, and now you’re purposely trying your damnedest not to call me _Ma’am_ because the bigoted opinion of an insufferable backwater desk jockey set your expections to see me as nothing but a woman.” 

A very heavy silence fell over the room, and no one looked at Hux. Both officers suddenly found reason to add even more creamer to their coffee, and Pryce was adding notes to her notepad that Hux suspected were more points to give to a judge for a warrant. 

Hux felt something nudge at the inside of his head, a tugging on his veins, and he clenched his teeth. He’d been feeling this since the night before last- it was the feeling of Kylo’s presence moving closer. He hoped Kylo wasn’t sensing his stress, that the hellhound wasn’t planning on bursting in to protect him. 

“Hux and I gave our ID, registration, and proof of insurance to Lowall,” Phasma said coolly. “She decided suddenly that she couldn’t read, and had a case of Prosopagnosia, because she called him by a name that was not his own, and said he was a person he was not.”

“But... you were named that, you were that person,” Ipswich interjected, looking at Hux. 

“That is irrelevant,” Hux snapped. “I am Sebastian Armitage Hux, Director of the Woodhaven Funeral Home, owner of the Woodhaven property. That name is on every single legal form pertaining to my identity. On every form where a gender is indicated, it is marked as male. 

“There is no Elisabeth Hux, there are no official records for her. They don’t exist. I was never that person, and you can give me the spiel of ‘you were born that person’ all you like but that is not who I am, in any way, including the way it matters in this case- legally.”

He stood up, his face still impassive, but he was showing a lot more teeth when he spoke.

“I went to get official registration taken care of, and was misgendered and wrongfully assumed to be a person who does not exist in any capacity by a government worker who was attempting to call me by the wrong name while entering official documentation!”

“Director, please calm d-”

“No,” Phasma said, standing up. “If anything, you should be looking for her for the crime of trying to falsify official documents, not harassing _him_ at work, refusing to use _his_ name or address _him_ respectfully because you talked to a busybody who spends more time gossiping and chewing gum, working her fat jaws like the mindless cow she is.” 

“Ma’am, you need to sit down,” Grant said, getting to his feet and resting his hand on the butt of his pistol. 

“My employer did nothing wrong. He left work at five, and I headed to the Pub- like I told you last night. Codi showed up like she always does, got a lot more drunk than she usually does, and I had to boot her ass out because she started shrieking about-”

Phasma shot an apologetic look at Hux before continuing. 

“She said, and I quote, ‘Goddamn tranny abomination ruining my mama’s life and disrespecting my dead Grandpa, I hope someone lynches her or runs her out of town!’ I told her to leave, that I don’t truck with hate speech in my pub. She told me to fuck off, so I kicked her out. Where the drunken bigot went after that, I don’t know, and I don’t care. She’s been banned from my establishment.

“This isn’t the first time she’s gone off drunk, and you know it. She probably went to the pier and fell in the water, drove her car into a tree, or broke into a room at Jeff’s inn- she’s done it before. No one said anything before because everyone ignores her drunken escapades. Only reason anyone is saying anything now, and the only reason y’all haven’t looked is because the whole town would much rather harass a transgender man than go after a friend of Emileigh Lee, and you all know it.” 

The room fell silent after Phasma’s tirade ended, and everyone- save for Phasma- avoided Hux’s eyes. Silently, Hux was reeling with appreciation, touched by Phasma’s defence of him- and his head was swimming with rage and emotional distress.

Finally, Pryce broke the silence. 

“So you didn’t see her again after the DMV incident, Mister Hux?” she said, her voice careful, and to Hux’s surprise, shaken, reticent. It was too little, too late, but he nodded. 

“I went home at five, as Phasma stated. I stopped at Winn Dixie for groceries, but otherwise went straight home. I can show you the receipt with the time stamp, if you need it.”

He levelled a gaze at the detective.

“However, and you can call her to confirm, or take a look at my bill, or my emails to her, I had to call a mechanic because I woke up yesterday to find two of the tires on my Rolls Royce had been slashed. I had to miss work due to the time it took to replace the tires.”

“Why not just have the car towed? Why not file a report?” Ipswich demanded.

“You proved my point today that it would not go anywhere or matter. I get harassed by a bigot for being transgender, and I am a suspect when said bigot goes off on a drunken misadventure after being kicked out of a pub for being hateful and ignorant. The last thing I wanted was to have my car towed through town for everyone to see that someone had vandalised it so shortly after being outed and humiliated at the DMV,” Hux said evenly.

“Why not report it to us?” Grant asked. He still has his hand resting near his gun. 

“Nothing would have come out of it, and it would have attracted unwanted attention, raised questions of why it happened, and it would have circled back around to this incident, and made me look worse. I’d win for losing, and I can’t make an insurance claim, anyway- when weighing the cost of the tires vs the deductible- slashing only two made the cost difference not worth the hassle of a claim,” Hux replied. 

No one had a reply for that. 

“Are we done?” Hux asked. “I have work to get to.”

“If we have any more questions-”

“You can call my extension,” Hux replied, pulling a business card from his pocket and handing it to her- it had the number of the funeral home, his extension and work email, but not his personal number. 

“And your cell?”

“If I am not a suspect, I see no need to give it out.”

“Your hostility and reluctance to cooperate is being noted, Director,” Ipswich growled.

“As is your refusal to acknowledge my name or proper form of address after talking to a bigot who purposely misgenders and deadnames me, which makes you complicit in bigotry,” Hux countered. 

“You’re not a protected minority here,” Grant said, his voice low. “You can’t pull a ‘gender card’ here.”

“Are you threatening me?” Hux asked calmly, but his blood was going cold and rushing in his ears- and the pressure of Kylo’s presence was getting heavier. 

“No, no he is not, he is _going back to his patrol car,_ aren’t you, Officer Grant?” Pryce said, shooting a look of venom at the officer. 

“...Yes, Captain.”

“You, too, Sergeant.”

Ipswich set his jaw firmly, shot a Look at Phasma, then trudged after Grant and left the building. 

Pryce sighed and ran fingers through her short black bob.

“I am… very sorry, sir,” she said softly. “This… was not what I was expecting.”

“And what were you expecting?” Hux said, trying not to sneer. “That I snapped and killed her and had her stowed away in the morgue? I’ve been beaten and assaulted for my gender, Captain, it will take much more than some snivelling Southern drunk to break me- and do not think for an instant I will forget what your officer said and implied to me.”

“He will be disciplined. A month of doing traffic duty at the pier with his gun left at the station will make him change his tune- nothing like cooling a hot head by making him observe retirees inch around the duck pond for a month,” Pryce replied. 

Hux set his mouth in a thin line. He didn’t buy this sudden show of support and change of character. 

“I… was honestly expecting a stereotype, and I’m sorry, for letting the previous witness colour my opinions of you,” Pryce said. 

“A stereotype. And which one was that?”

Pryce sighed.

“The way she described you, I was expecting a slightly masculine woman with an undercut and ill fitting men’s clothing, and an overdone attempt at a masculine voice… like in Mulan,” she said helplessly. 

“And? If that was the case, I still would deserve to be respected, as would my gender!” Hux said angrily. 

“No, I know, and I’m sorry. I was taken aback because, well, I saw you and thought ‘He’s transgender? He doesn’t look like it.’ You… you look like a regular man.”

“Because I _am_ a man. Transgender people don’t look trans, they look like themselves, and cisgender people can’t always tell, they don’t have ‘transdar’ any more than they have ‘gaydar,’ so your defence is not endearing or warming me to you, Captain,” Hux growled. 

“God, I am really fubaring this. I’m sorry, Hux. I’m ignorant on this. Really, really ignorant, and I let someone else’s hateful opinion cloud my judgement. You’re right, though. No one wants to admit that Codi has a problem, because she associates with Mrs Lee, and her family have a large part of the town in their lap,” Pryce said. 

Phasma grunted. 

“Do you believe he did anything to her?”

Pryce shook her head. 

“No, I don’t. My gut says she went out there drunk and angry. Angry at him, angry at herself, who knows. But she went out there drunk and anything could have happened to her.”

She looked at Hux with a pained expression.

“I have a lot to learn about transgender folks,” she admitted. “But I’m willing to learn, and I will do what I can to mitigate the damage Brenda caused with her statement. You won’t hear from us again unless absolutely necessary, and I’ll personally make sure that the local press knows about this.”

Hux eyed her. He didn’t trust her- he didn’t trust any cops- but she admitted she was wrong, and was willing to try to do damage control. He hesitated, then held out his hand. She immediately took it, and gave it a firm, respectful shake. 

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she said, saying his name for the first time. “I’ll see myself out. Again, I apologise for my officers. They’re aspiring to be detectives, but if they keep this up, they’ll never get that shield.”

Hux managed a very small smile. 

“Have a good day, Captain.”

Pryce shook Phasma’s hand- Phasma gripped it a little harder than was necessary, making her wince, but she took it in stride- and she saw herself out. 

Phasma put a hand on Hux’s shoulder.

“You okay?” she asked. Hux nodded.

“I will be, after a drink,” he said wearily. 

“Come to the Pub after work. I’ll give you some rounds on the house,” she offered. 

“Won’t that look suspicious? Me, showing up to the usual haunt of a woman who’s gone missing after she went on a transphobic rant about me?”

“No, because you’d be coming to the pub I own, and you are my employer.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hux said, pausing on his way to his office, turning to look at Phasma curiously.

“Why take this job if you own a pub?”

“Hours are from six pm until one am on weekdays, four pm until three am on Fridays and Saturdays. Business is good enough that I can open later with a smaller window than the other bars around here- Maetra’s sister and brother-in-law are our cooks. They own the Old 27 Grill, so their food is well known. Their restaurant and my pub are affiliates,” Phasma replied. 

“We each have a restricted stock of our affiliate- I have a few of the popular bar-suitable dishes from the Grill, they have some of our IPA’s from the local brewery delivered from us.”

“Give them a taste, and if they’re craving the food during the day, they go to the Grill, and if they like the IPA’s and want to try more, they go to the Pub. Clever," Hux commented.

“Gives us a constant flow of customers,” Phasma confirmed. 

“Again. Why take this job?”

“To be with Maetra. Sometimes the job can be tough, working with the dead. Mae has… some issues when it comes to kids coming into her work space, if you know what I mean. I like to be there if she needs me.”

She paused.

“Also, when I found out you were trans, and I had already gotten guff from folks for being a married lesbian owning a business here in this tiny town with its pseudo-oligarchy, I knew I wanted to be there to support you, too. Navy, too. We gotta support each other, or they’ll eat us alive.”

Hux smiled at her warmly.

“Thank you, Phasma.”

She grinned.

“Let’s go see if Mae needs help with the client, yeah?”

* * *

The rest of the day went smoothly, uneventfully. The change of season storms were rolling in as the day cooled, and by five, the sky was completely overcast, and the temperature dropped to a blessed seventy degrees. 

Hux stacked his last papers, slid them into a manilla folder, and tucked them into a filing cabinet. Phasma stuck her head through the door of his office.

“Closing time,” she sang. “Ready to get a drink?”

Hux’s reply was cut off as the doors opened and the chimes tinkled softly. Hux exited his office to greet the customer, and stopped in his tracks, frozen like a deer caught in LED brights. 

Kylo stood in the foyer, wearing an outfit comprised almost entirely of black- long coat, waistcoat, slacks, leather loafers, and cravat. The only thing that wasn’t black was his button down shirt, which was a red so dark, it was only a few shades shy of black. 

His hair was pulled back with a matching red ribbon, and his eyes glittered in the light. His pale skin looked garish under the fluorescent lighting, and his full mouth curved in a smirk. 

“Can we help you?” Phasma asked curiously. “If you’re the casket supplier, we weren’t expecting you for another week.”

“Oh, no, I’m not here for business- only pleasure,” Kylo replied, fixing Hux with a stare.

“And you are….?” Maetra asked, coming out from the back and standing beside Phasma.

“Forgive me,” Kylo replied, never taking his eyes off Hux. “I just got in from out of town, and you are _such_ a sight for sore eyes, Sebastian.” 

Hux didn’t know what to say- and had no time to say anything at all- as Kylo seized him, slipping an arm around his waist, and a gloved hand to the back of his head, pulling him in close. His eyes glittered, and without a word, he pressed his lips to Hux’s in a bruising kiss. 

Phasma and Maetra stared in a mixture of confusion and delight as Kylo kissed their boss, Hux’s fingers seizing the front of Kylo’s shirt, fingers curling in the fabric. Kylo broke the kiss and hugged Hux tight, his mouth near his ear.

“Just roll with it- maybe even enjoy it- but I heard some things and I need to protect you. I’ll explain when we get home, but this is the only way I know how to keep you safe _without_ killing anyone,” Kylo growled softly so only Hux could hear before pulling away- but not letting go of Hux’s waist. He kept Hux pulled tight against his side, and he gave a wolfish grin. 

“My name is Kylo. I’m Sebastian’s boyfriend.”

  
  
  



	10. [Notes: Research/Points of Interest]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter to be used as an info dump on setting, research, side notes etc.

Apologies for alerting folks to a new chapter, when this is mostly field notes, but I felt like doing an info dump ♥

[Also, please check my chapter on Kylo!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989934/chapters/55545115) There's more updates on his information!

**Hux and Kylo's scent:**

I don’t really know how to fully explain Kylo’s scent in the story without making it go off the rails and dry as a setting description scene in an Jean M Auel book, so I’m gonna post some links about indole/cadavarine to shed some light on how Kylo’s scent works, and why Hux has such a visceral response to it!

  * [Chemistry of Death and Desire](https://deathscent.com/2016/01/19/the-chemistry-of-death-and-desire/)
  * [Mixing the Foul With the Fragrant](https://www.fragrantica.com/news/Mixing-the-Foul-with-the-Fragrant-The-Mystery-of-Indole-5511.html)
  * [Scents that Smell Like Hot Dirty Sex](https://www.allure.com/gallery/strong-sexy-fragrances-that-smell-like-hot-dirty-sex)
  * [Indole](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indole)
  * [Skatole](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skatole)



**The Fairhope/Point Clear/Montrose/Silverhill Micropolitan Area:**

These towns are in Baldwin County, which honestly, has the most hilarious story about the change of county seat, and I have to put it here so you can get an idea of how Extra the state is. 

From the Wiki:

> In the first days of Baldwin County, the town of McIntosh Bluff on the Tombigbee River was the county seat. (It is now included in Mobile County, west of Baldwin County.) The county seat was transferred to the town of Blakeley in 1820, and then to the city of Daphne in 1868. In 1900, by an act of the legislature of Alabama, the county seat was authorized for relocation to the city of Bay Minette; however, the city of Daphne resisted this relocation.
> 
> To achieve the relocation, the men of Bay Minette devised a scheme. They fabricated a murder to lure the Sheriff and his deputy out of the city of Daphne. While the law was chasing down the fictitious killer during the late hours, the group of Bay Minette men stealthily traveled the seventeen miles (27 km) to Daphne, stole the Baldwin County Courthouse records, and delivered them to the city of Bay Minette, where Baldwin County's county seat remains. A New Deal mural, completed by WPA artists during the Great Depression, depicts these events. It hangs in the Bay Minette United States Post Office.

**Silverhill** \- Where Woodhaven Dairy is located, and my home town!

  * **Founded:** 1897
  * **Population:** 888
  * **Area:** 1.26 sq mi (3.26 km2)



**Fairhope** \- Where the Woodhaven Funeral Home is located, and is a major centre for art and history!

  * **Founded:** 1894- but the first town settlements were made by the Spanish in the early 1600's, and later, the English in the 1700's. 
  * **Population** : 17,386
  * **Area:** 14.04 sq mi (36.36 km2)



**Point Clear** \- Not technically a city, but Unincorporated Territory. Main attraction is the Grand Hotel, which is a high class hotel that has been the choice of many celebrities.

  * **Founded:** 1847- but the area has been used as a resort destination since before the 1800's.
  * **Population:** 2,125
  * **Area:** 4.83 sq mi (12.50 km2)



**Montrose-** Mostly residential, but has Historical Ecor Rouge, scenic and landmark cliffs of red clay and roads with oak branch canopies.

  * **Founded:** 1847
  * Population is included in census with Fairhope.



**Marlow- **Unincorporated territory, former site of the Marlow Ferry used in the War of 1812

  * **Founded:** 1887
  * Population included in census with Silverhill



**Malbis-** Historical Plantation site, also known for the Greek Orthodox Church.

  * **Founded:** 1906
  * Population included in census with Spanish Fort



Photos!

Maz's Castle in Fairhope (Officially known as the Mosher Castle)

Inspiration Oak- this was once a HUGE tree that was beloved by the state, but when the owner of the land had a dispute with the state over the tree becoming a historical landmark, he cut and poisoned the trunk, and the tree spent time in an ICU tent in an attempt to save it. Sadly, the tree didn't make it, and the man who killed it, went to prison.

The picturesque Scenic 98 through Ecor Rouge!

Downtown Fairhope:

And, of course, pictures of the Dairy ♥ Sadly, it is VERY overgrown and much of it can't be seen much through the overgrowth.

And here's the slaughterhouse and stables

And now, a bonus- everyone's cars ♥

Hux: Rolls Royce Phantom

Poe: Custom Painted Camaro

Finn: Custom painted F350

Rey: 1985 5.0 litre Mustang

Dopheld: Champagne Lexus SC430 

**Phasma:** Custom Harley Davidson/ Land Rover Defender when driving with Maetra

**Maetra** : Cadillac CTS Coupe

The Woodhaven Hearses:


	11. That Escalated Quickly*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux introduces Phasma and Maetra to Kylo as his boyfriend, and another tormentor nearly has Kylo showing his fangs in public. Kylo shows Hux the real reason a Hux always needs to be at Woodhaven. A fake relationship creates something real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has smut between Kylo and Hux wherein Kylo slips into hellhound form and there's knotting. The beginning of the smut is indicated by **. To skip the smut, hit ctrl + F and input ***, which will jump you past it. (On mobile, this is under "find in/on page," usually by hitting the three dots/bars used for accessing your refresh/bookmark menu!) 
> 
> Additional warnings: Transphobic slurs and transphobic/homophobic threats of death/violence, as well as allusions to rough sex that was not enjoyed by Hux. There is also gore and body horror, but I was unable to cut these into sections for skipping without important plotpoints being missed, so I tried not to be too graphic, only descriptive. 
> 
> Alcohol and food are consumed in this chapter, and Kylo is a pig, lol.

> _When everyday's like a war between the will to go on_   
>  _And a wish that the world would spiral into the sun_   
>  _Turn your head toward the storm that's surely coming along_

> _If the sun was always shining and our load always light_   
>  _We'd be shaking like a leaf with every God given night_   
>  _And we'd break under the weight of any pressure_   
>  _That was ever applied_

> _\-- Brown Bird, "Bilgewater"_

After reassuring Phasma and Maetra that, yes, he promised, he’d come to the Pub, and that yes, he’d introduce them to his “boyfriend,” Hux closed up the funeral home for the day. Phasma and Maetra got into their silver Defender and headed to the Pub, and Hux shoved Kylo into the front seat of the Phantom. 

He removed his jacket, threw it on its hanger then locked the doors once he was in the driver’s seat. He shot a murderous glare at Kylo, who was looking bewildered at being in the front seat, and seemed very thrown off kilter by the seat belt. 

“What the _hell_ are you doing, Kylo?” Hux hissed. His lips were swollen from Kylo’s kiss, and he could taste him on his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was angrier about- the kiss, or that he’d enjoyed it. 

“Listen,” Kylo said, not even bantering or fooling around. “There’s something you need to know.”

“What? What is more important than maintaining appearances?” Hux shot back.

“This _is_ about maintaining appearances,” Kylo replied, his lip curling and showing off fangs. 

“Don’t flash your teeth at me, Kylo, I’m not wanting to fight, I just want to understand,” Hux replied, his tone more cross than he wanted it to be. 

“I went downtown and walked around, listening for anything about Codi,” Kylo said. “People turn blind eyes to dogs- even well bred, pretty puppies like myself.”

“Yes, you’re a pretty puppy, but well bred is pushing it,” Hux retorted, and Kylo grinned. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

Hux sighed and gave Kylo an impatient look. 

“What did you hear?”

Kylo stared at him, eyes searching his face, but said nothing, his mouth still curved in a smile. Hux returned the look by pressing his lips into a thin line of frustration.

“Kylo…”

“You think I’m pretty?” Kylo asked again, and Hux groaned. 

“Yes, I think you’re pretty, you vain demonic dog, now answer the question, since you say it’s important,” Hux growled. 

Kylo preened for a moment, then continued, growing serious. 

“I saw Emileigh Lee,” he said somberly. “She was sitting outside eating lunch with another woman, and she mentioned you and Codi, so I plopped under the shade of a tree and acted like a typical stray taking a break from the sun.”

Hux remembered how he’d caught glimpses of Kylo’s true nature when he was in the shade, and frowned. 

“Wouldn’t they have seen your true form?” he asked. Surely Kylo wasn’t that stupid.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

“Those two are completely blind to the other world, utterly ignorant of it. They’d only see me if I manifested in front of them. Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Continue,” Hux said, putting on his seatbelt and starting up the car. “Buckle up.”

Kylo scowled and fought with the seatbelt, mimicking Hux’s actions to get buckled in as Hux backed out of his spot and then drove out onto 98. 

“Emileigh knows Codi is missing, and the rumours were mostly about Codi getting upset because she started a fight with you and lost her family their burial service consultation, then got drunk and disappeared. Emileigh said she couldn’t afford to have such rumours attached to someone she associates with,” Kylo said, his eyes moving rapidly as he tried to track various things like cars, buildings, trees and pedestrians as the car drove towards Fairhope Avenue. 

Kylo’s tone told Hux that there was more, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Whatever she said can’t be worse than what Phasma said Codi said about me, called me, before you ate her, Kylo,” Hux said softly, flicking his left turn signal as he waited for the light to change. 

Kylo growled softly, and Hux glanced at him. His eyes had gone from a rich warm amber brown with white sclera to a dark blood red, his scleras going black, and his eyes sinking back into their sockets. 

He reached over and placed a hand on Kylo’s thigh. 

“It’s okay. You have to tell me to protect me.” 

“The other woman- Rachael- said ‘It figures that she turned out to be a-’ I’m sorry, I can’t say the word. But she said that everyone had suspected you were a lesbian because of how you dressed, and Emileigh clapped her hands, very happy.”

Kylo watched the scene go by as the light turned green and Hux turned left- he didn’t miss how the car growled as Hux hit the gas a little harder than was necessary. Silently, he agreed with the car’s growling. 

“She had an idea, didn’t she?” Hux asked, breaking the tense silence as the car hugged the curve and slipped past the historical family houses. 

Kylo nodded, wishing the windows were open so he could inhale the various scents of the houses and lawns. He knew the buttons would lower the windows, but kept them up for privacy’s sake. No one needed to hear this. 

“She said no one would believe you, because it would be all too easy to say that everyone knew you were a lesbian in high school, and that your transition was because you wanted to pretend to be a man in order to win Codi over when you came home, that the altercation was over your gender and name, but it was because you told her you tried to become a man for her and wanted to try wooing her again. That she refused you, and you got ugly and threatened her that she was making a mistake,” he said in a rush, not wanting to linger too long over it. 

Hux was quiet, his knuckles nearly white on the steering wheel as he brought the car to a stop at the intersection of Fairhope Avenue and Section Street as the light turned red. A woman he didn’t recognise stared at him openly, or perhaps was staring at his car, he couldn’t be sure, but the gaze felt too long, and his anxiety and the stress of the day made him paranoid, so he revved the engine to a low roar when the light turned green, frightening the woman as he took off. 

“So you’re posing as my boyfriend, to dispel those rumours,” he finally said, understanding what Kylo was up to, and he felt a pang of appreciation for him- and a pang of guilt for being so angry. 

“Exactly. I told you- I want to protect you. I also want to eat you, but that’s irrelevant, as I can’t allow myself to do that,” Kylo replied. 

“Okay. So. We have to establish talking points if anyone asks,” Hux said, not wasting time with posturing or sputtering over it, and Kylo was pleasantly surprised by his willingness to pretend he had a relationship with him. 

“You’re a historian,” Hux said, slowing the car and pulling into a parking space next to Phasma’s silver Defender. “Your focus is the general history of this area, specifically the local towns here where I know you’ve lived for so long.”

Kylo nodded. Easy enough to prove, given he’d lived through the history itself. 

“You and I met ten years ago, and have been dating for one year,” Hux continued. “It’ll explain why you are able to read me so well- and why I’ll explain that you’re moving in with me.”

Kylo lifted his brows.

“Moving in together?”

“You already live on the property, Kylo, you’ve spent two nights in my bed, and I suspect you’re going to be in it again tonight and every night after that. I have the feeling that inviting you in the first time was a permission slip for the future,” Hux replied, and Kylo had the grace to grin sheepishly. 

“Where did we meet?” Kylo interjected. 

Hux fumbled with his cigarettes and lighter in the center console, swearing. 

“My grandfather’s funeral,” he said finally. “My father is part of a well connected family with a long history in this town, and you were interested in the family history.”

Kylo considered. 

“That works, fits the timeline. Could say I was a comfort, being an outsider who wasn’t bigoted or backwards and respected your gender,” he agreed. 

“A direct counter to the transphobic rumours that basically spit on them and this supposed obsession with Codi- because why would I want someone like _her_ when I have someone like _you_?” Hux said slyly, and Kylo actually flushed. 

“That should be enough for Phasma- she doesn’t like a lot of small talk. It’s why I like her. Now change your eyes, Kylo, they’re red and black.”

Kylo blinked, his eyes becoming human again, and he wrestled once again with the seatbelt before getting out of the car. Hux got out, slipped his cigarettes and lighter into his pants pocket, and locked the car. 

“No jacket?” Kylo asked. 

“After work hours in a pub? No.”

Kylo glanced around. No one was by the windows, and he was mostly out of sight between the cars. His clothing shimmered, and he shed his coat, down to the classy waistcoat and dark red shirt. Hux lifted a brow.

“Show off,” he commented, heading for the pub doors. Kylo smirked, and followed close behind him as they went inside. 

“Heeeyy, you actually came!” Phasma called from behind the bar. 

She’d shed her work clothes, and was wearing a black leather jacket, a plain white tank and oil smeared, grease stained jeans with various holes in them. She headed over to greet Hux, and he saw she was wearing black leather combat boots. Her hair had gone from a well groomed bob to a careless tousle of platinum blonde, and she still had blood red lipstick on her wide mouth. 

“Phasma- one helluva quick wardrobe change,” Hux greeted her, shaking her hand firmly, avoiding the staring eyes of everyone in the pub who’d turned or looked up to watch him come inside with the tall dark stranger behind him. Whispers made a low buzz under the music that was playing from the speakers. It was a dark, but distinctly Southern accented music with guitar and heavy bass, and Hux found he liked it. 

“These? Sorry they’re greasy- work clothes I had here from working on the bike. C’mon,” Phasma coaxed. “Get over to the counter. Let me make you a drink while you introduce me to the boyfriend you conveniently forgot to mention.”

Hux followed her to the bar, Kylo close enough to feel the chill of his body on his back- and then Hux realised Kylo had rested his hand at the small of his back protectively. Hux had the urge to tell him he needed space, but he remembered that Kylo would absorb his body heat, and he shut his mouth, letting Kylo use him to warm up. The last thing he needed was for him to shake Phasma’s hand and be alarmed by hands that were cold as ice- even with wearing gloves. 

“What can I make you boys?” she asked. 

“Old fashioned, since you said you make the best ones around,” Hux replied with a smile, and glanced at Kylo. 

“Want anything, Kylo?” he asked. 

“Do you have absinthe?” Kylo asked. 

Phasma nodded.

“Actually, I do. There’s a few stuffy scholars that attend UA that love the stuff, so I keep stock. You want it made traditionally, I assume?” she asked. “I have a drip.” 

Hux’s surprise must have shown on his face, because she laughed. 

“Stuffy historians who love absinthe, and a wife who’s a mortician who also loves the stuff? Of course I have a drip for it. Have the spoons, too, as well as the proper glasses. There’s a reason my bar does better than McSharry’s. The bookworms with bigger wallets come here, the meatheads go to Sharry’s.”

“Funny, as I myself am a historian- and I’ll have it made with the drip, of course, as I am not a meathead,” Kylo replied. “What brands do you have?”

“Only one- Grön Opal- and it’s kept my wife and waistcoat wearing patrons very happy.”

Kylo nodded, smiling.

“Perfect,” he said approvingly. “That one has a beautiful louche and tastes more like wild wood than most- especially French brands.” 

Hux only stared. Kylo had more human socialising history than he’d let on. So why was he such a ridiculous mess around him? Their impromptu bond?

_Or maybe it’s because_ **_you’re_ ** _awkward around him because you find him ridiculously attractive in human form, and he’s unsure how to react to that himself,_ Hux thought to himself, watching as Kylo perched on a barstool gracefully beside him, long legs elegantly arranged. 

His long legs and toned arms, with the perfectly tailored clothes, his stupidly pretty hair pulled back into the silk ribbon, and the perfect ease with which he arranged himself made him look like a dandy from an Oscar Wilde novel come to life, and Hux felt his heart flutter like a teenager just looking at him. 

_Who the hell would believe someone like him is_ **_my_ ** _boyfriend?_

As if reading his mind, Kylo reached out and placed his large hand over the small of Hux’s back again, fingers kneading into it reassuringly, and ignoring the glances of a few of the patrons behind them. He didn’t call attention to them- Hux was nervous as it was without making him aware of how people were watching them curiously. After all, it was idle curiosity for now- it seemed that most of the regulars at the Pub were a more welcoming sort. 

Hux tried very hard not to flush at Kylo’s touch, and leaned into it despite being nervous about it. Kylo wasn’t really his boyfriend, he was … something, but boyfriend was not it. His company, his touch, his presence, though, that made him feel safe and flustered all at once. He felt like he was back in high school on a first date. 

_This is a ruse,_ he told himself. _Don’t take this seriously or look too much into it. He’s not really human, and he_ **_tried to eat you._ **

Remembering that fact was sobering, and made it easier to ignore the flush, the flustered feelings as Kylo pulled him closer by the waist. It made it easier to lean into that touch, and pretend he was comfortable with this man, that he was his boyfriend who was moving in with him. 

It made it easier to pretend that for one evening, at least, he was a normal man in a healthy relationship getting to know coworkers that had the promise of becoming close friends. It helped him think that perhaps he _could_ be happy in this lot assigned to him. 

Phasma set Kylo’s drink up, and left the fountain to drip over the sugar cube, Kylo watching the louche form with an almost mesmerised air. Hux shook his head and watched as Phasma set to making his drink. 

“Whisky, or brandy?” she asked while muddling the main ingredients in a glass. She started with the splash of soda and bitters and a cube of sugar, then carefully added orange and cherry. 

“Brandy, please- I’ll trust your judgement on brand,” Hux replied, glancing at Kylo’s drink- and doing a double take. 

With every drip of water, a plume of white developed in the deep peridot green of the absinthe, each one roiling like the fog of Silverhill nights. It was mesmerising to watch, and he could see why Kylo was watching it so intently. 

“So,” Phasma said, putting Hux’s drink on a coaster and sliding it across the table. “Hungry?”

“I am ravenous, and given the light lunch Sebastian had, I imagine he is, too,” Kylo replied, never taking his eyes off the absinthe drip, which was almost done. 

Phasma grinned and slid a glossy laminated menu across the counter to Kylo, who finally tore his eyes away after turning off the drip, his drink ready. He admired the louche, the colour, and leaned forward to inhale the aroma. 

“Smells divine,” he murmured. He lifted the spoon off the top of the glass and stirred the remaining sugar at the bottom of the glass, then took a delicate sip- and sighed. 

“Incredible.”

“Alright, you stuffed frock coat, pick something to eat,” Hux groused, his tone amused. Kylo was running with the scholar identity well. 

Kylo glanced over the menu, and Hux could see his mouth start to water- which he hid with another sip of his absinthe. He _was_ hungry, and that was dangerous. 

“Pork belly sandwich, no coleslaw or pickles, and two orders of the pork belly bites,” he said, sliding the menu to Hux, who blinked. 

“Hungry?”

“Told you. Ravenous. And one of those is for us to share,” Kylo replied with a grin before taking another sip of his drink. Hux sighed. He could afford it, but he was mildly irritated that Kylo was taking advantage of the fact that he was the one with actual money. 

If it kept him from eating anyone later, it’d be worth it, he supposed. He also realised that Kylo could probably, and likely would eat the entirety of the kitchen’s contents and come back for seconds, given his size. 

Hux perused the menu- just as Phasma had said, it was limited, and most of it was typical dive bar-slash-grill food that was fattening and full of ridiculous amounts of bacon, cheese, homemade sauces and grilled onions. 

It all looked delicious. 

“What the hell,” he said. “Pork belly sandwich here, too, but I’ll happily have pickles on mine, extra caramelised onions, no slaw. I’ll also get us each a Coke so he doesn’t overdo the absinthe.” 

Phasma shot the order to the kitchen, and got them the Cokes. 

“Oi, Bill, I’m gonna chat with my day job boss, you got the bar for a bit? I’ll keep an eye on things, I’ll just be in the back booth,” she said to a middle-aged man who looked like his constant state of being was ignoring expectations and doing what he wanted without giving a shit about public opinion- and of the chaotic good variety. 

“Sure thing, Phas,” he acknowledged, and Phasma led Hux and Kylo to the back corner, where a booth was tucked just out of sight of the barfloor- likely a booth for live bands to stow their things when they performed, but as there were no bands tonight, it was empty. Likely by design. 

“That’s Bill, the brother-in-law, and the Grill owner. He quit a lucrative job to create a dive diner where he could cook what he wanted- and most of that was meat that he smokes himself, all from local butchers. He’s good folk, and he backed me up when Codi pulled her bullshit.”

Hux liked him already- and if the menu was his creation, he liked him all the more. Hard not to like decent folks who could cook, especially if they had Phasma’s approval.

“So,” Phasma said, sliding into the booth across from Kylo- who pressed against Hux almost eagerly, his thigh still cold under his slacks. 

“Introduce me, boss?”

“Phasma, this is my boyfriend, Kylo. Kylo, this is Phasma Steele, my assistant director,” Hux said by way of introduction, realising they had not come up with a last name for him. 

Phasma outstretched her hand, and Kylo took it- thankfully, that had been the hand he’d been resting on Hux’s back, so it was warm when he shook Phasma’s hand with a firm grip. 

“Kylo Renescu,” he said, and Hux made a mental note to ask him about the surname later.

“Good to meet you, Phasma.”

“And I am Maetra Steele, Phasma’s wife,” Maetra announced as she slid into the booth beside Phasma, a Smoky Bloody Mary in hand for Phasma, and a Stormy Morning for herself. She’d swapped her skirt suit for black jeans and a black shirt screen printed with a picture of Yinepu preparing the dead. 

“Never really out of the role, are you?” Hux asked in amusement. She grinned. 

“Not really,” she said, shaking Kylo’s hand. “Nice to meet the boyfriend the boss conveniently never mentioned.”

“I wasn’t expected in town for a while, but circumstances changed, so I took the first opportunity to get here,” Kylo said, sliding an arm around Hux’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his forehead. His breath smelled of anise and fennel, and was cool on his skin. 

“You two must not have been dating long if Hux hadn’t mentioned you,” Phasma teased. 

“Only a year, but we’ve known each other for a decade. I kind of fell for him about five years after we met, and it took another four years of pining and subtle hints for him to realise I was smitten,” Kylo replied cheekily. 

“A decade? So you live here?” Maetra asked. 

“I do _now_ , since Seb was sweet enough to commit and let me move in. I’m not originally from here, but I moved to Mobile when I was going to school. Visited Fairhope, Malbis, Montrose and Silverhill and was quite taken with the area and its unique history,” Kylo replied, taking a sip of his absinthe. He turned his head to gaze at Hux.

“I stayed for the locals. Especially this one.”

Hux nearly choked on his drink, the brandy burning his nose, and Kylo grabbed a napkin, daubing at Hux’s mouth. 

“So where are you originally from?” Maetra asked, and Hux swallowed. They hadn’t gone over that. 

“Romania,” Kylo replied. “Came over as a toddler, though- my parents settled in Florida, so I never kept the accent, if I ever had one.”

“Ahh, that explains the -escu surname. So you’re a historian. How the hell did you decide to focus on the history of this podunk?” Phasma asked, pointedly ignoring how flustered Hux was. 

“I wouldn’t call it a podunk,” Kylo argued. “What with the vast number of artists and creative minds, the world renowned Arts and Crafts Festival, the Kanata castle, not to mention the unmarked graves behind the First Cemetery proper that belong to actual condemned witches.”

“It’s a podunk with class,” Phasma amended, taking a sip of her drink- and pulling a piece of bacon out of it, shoving it into her mouth. 

“Phasma… is that bacon?” Hux asked in amusement. 

“That’s what a Smoky Bloody Mary is, ain’t it?” She grinned, using a stalk of celery to stir her cocktail before taking another long sip. “Though I put habanero juice in mine, along with the usual ingredients. I like it to have a kick.” 

“And you like going a few hours without any kisses,” Maetra said dryly. 

“Low heat tolerance?” Kylo asked. Maetra snorted. 

“Hardly. Mine is higher than hers- but I’m mostly a vegetarian. I don’t eat any animals with a central nervous system. Kind of lose your taste for most meat when your career revolves around it being ruined by preservatives,” she replied. 

“Bet it makes you taste better for Phasma, though,” Kylo leered, and Hux kicked him, hard, under the table. Phasma slapped the table top with the flat of her palm, letting out a bark of laughter, while Maetra sighed good-naturedly and pointedly took a sip of her own drink. 

“I apologise for him, he has no decorum for a scholar,” Hux growled. Maetra shook her head, holding up her hand. 

“No need- and scholars can sometimes be worse than bikers.”

A waitress approached the table, her arms laden with plates of food, and she doled them out. Kylo immediately took his arm from around Hux’s shoulders and dug into the pork belly bites. He shoved an entire cube of meat into his mouth, his jaws working furiously on the soft meat. Hux nudged his foot under the table- he’d seen a flash of fang while he was chewing. 

Phasma and Maetra were watching him in mildly surprised amusement. 

“Good, huh?”

Kylo swallowed, his throat visibly stretching around the large bite of meat, and he nodded. 

“Incredible. Tell Bill his recipe is divine,” he replied before taking a swig of Coke and cutting another piece into smaller bites. 

“Try this,” he said, spearing a piece with his fork- and pushing it into Hux’s mouth, his eyes never leaving Hux’s. 

Hux used his teeth to pull the meat off the fork, and chewed it thoughtfully. It was savoury and smoky from the barbeque sauce, sweet and delightfully spicy from the sweet chili sauce, and the meat was deliciously juicy and tender. 

“Good, right?” Kylo said, pulling the fork away and reaching over to wipe a daub of sauce from the corner of Hux’s mouth with his thumb- right as Hux attempted to lick it away. His tongue pressed against the pad of Kylo’s thumb, and the two of the locked eyes, unable to look away.

“Ey, wait until you randy teenagers get home, yeah?” Phasma teased. 

“It’s delicious, thank you, Phasma,” Hux said after finally swallowing, breaking his stare with Kylo- who snatched the pickled egg off the plate and shoved it whole in his mouth with apparent relish. 

“Absinthe and pickled eggs. For a scholar, you have very conflicting tastes and mannerisms,” Maetra commented over the rim of her drink, watching him chew the egg quickly and swallow it before picking up the pickled egg that came with the other order of bites.

“You want this one, Sebastian?” he asked. 

“No, thanks, Kylo. I don’t like hard boiled eggs. You go ahead- but you’re not getting any kisses until you brush your teeth, sulphur breath,” Hux replied, the comment about kisses falling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

Kylo grinned and popped the egg in his mouth, chewing with gusto as he picked up half of his pork belly sandwich. Hux watched him swallow, then dig into the sandwich. 

“It’s… it’s like watching a snake try to eat a small pig,” Phasma commented, watching Kylo nearly inhale the first half of the sandwich in a few bites, amazed.

“He’s a glutton with an impeccable metabolism, and I envy him for it,” Hux said offhandedly, cutting a piece of pork and sliding it into his mouth. 

There was a chorus of greetings as the pub door opened, and Hux glanced over his shoulder at the person who entered- and went rigid, then turned back, pulling himself out of sight back into the booth. Phasma and Kylo reacted immediately. 

“Who is it?” Kylo asked. 

“Old ‘friend’?” Phasma asked at the same time. 

“Former one night stand with a bad past history, I’d rather not have him notice I’m here- or give him the chance to recognise me,” Hux said quietly, taking a sip of his cocktail. 

Kylo ducked under the table, moved awkwardly between everyone’s legs. Phasma, Maetra and Hux all made sounds of confusion as he emerged from under it, and pushed Hux over against the wall. He sat beside him, positioning himself between Hux and anyone who might approach. His playful nature was gone, replaced by that of an overprotective lover. 

_Monster. Demon. Tormentor …. Lover. Boyfriend._

It was odd, how quickly he’d gone from one polar end to the other without Hux having to really think about- and it also shocked him that between them, he hadn’t considered “friend, companion,” and they hadn’t even had sex- they’d had one awkward cuddling session on the couch, a few nights of sharing a bed, and one very tense shared morning and even more tense mutual morning arousal. 

Yet, Hux mused, watching as Kylo assumed a defensive position and going back to practically inhaling the second half of his sandwich, it was all too easy to fall into the role of boyfriend, and long term friend with him. 

Bill brought over a plate of loaded fries for Phasma and a plate of fried shrimp and green tomatoes for Maetra. They dug in, and Hux tried his sandwich, which was just as delicious, if not more so than the bites. As the four ate in companionable silence, the speakers continued playing the dark Americana music Hux had heard earlier, though this song had a much darker, richer bass line. 

_Will you be ready when the straw boss calls?_

_He's got an ever loving bone to pick with one and all_

_Don't let his condescension get you down_

_Just have the strength to know you're wrong_

_And when you're right the strength to stand your ground_

_In spite of all the wherewithal_

_To fight it all I will face it all_

_In spite of all the wherewithal_

_To fight it all I'll embrace it all_

Hux found himself tapping his foot a tad with the rhythm, and he liked the lyrics of the song- they were relatable, especially right now. Between the good music, the excellent food and drink, and Kylo’s comforting presence, Hux felt himself relax. 

He deserved a good evening after the hell day he had, and he leaned against Kylo- his meal was somehow enhanced by the whiff of Kylo’s scent that reached his nose. It was as if Kylo’s scent, which already made him hungry in ways he couldn’t explain, made the flavour, the texture of his meal all the better. 

“Shrimp’s really good tonight,” Maetra commented, popping a fat prawn in her mouth. Phasma nodded. 

“Fries are even better tonight than usual. Bill’s having a good night in the kitchen, I guess.”

Hux said nothing. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t- as the man he’d seen enter the bar had come around the corner to talk to Phasma. 

“Hey, Steele,” he said, his voice gruff from years of smoking. 

Kylo looked up at the man, smelling Hux’s apprehension and feeling the tension build in his muscles. 

He was of average height, with pale skin that was mostly freckles. He had strawberry blonde hair tied up and back in a short messy tail, fly-aways surrounding his face, which was sunburnt, wind-chafed and in need of a shave. His hazel eyes were narrowed as he greeted Phasma. 

“Patrick,” Phasma replied. Her tone wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t welcoming either. Either she was apprehensive due to Hux’s discomfort, or he was not a favourite patron of hers. Kylo was willing to bet it was both. 

Hux turned to the side a bit to face the wall to keep his face from being visible, leaning harder against Kylo and taking comfort from his cool body. Kylo eyed Patrick as he shoved the last bit of pork into his mouth, then wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin before wrapping an arm around Hux’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

“I’m here,” he whispered to Hux softly. “I’m here.”

“You seen John lately?” Patrick asked, and Phasma frowned, pausing with a fry halfway to her mouth. She didn’t look at him, scowling as a glob of cheese and bacon fell from the fry back to the plate. 

“Saw him two days ago in here, he got completely sloshed, despite folks telling him he needed to be careful, given the fact that he’d lost a quarter of his guts from his accident,” she replied, shoving the fry in her mouth after swirling it back in the toppings that had fallen off.

“He also ate food I know someone with a short bowel shouldn’t be eating, and I told him as such,” Maetra chimed in, setting her drink down.

“He told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, because I only work with the dead. I told him if he kept that up, he’d be on my slab soon enough and I’d be able to say ‘told you so’ when I did his autopsy.”

“You’re a morbid fucker, you know that?” Patrick asked, lifting a brow. 

“I’m a morbid fucker with a medical PhD, but what do I know?” Maetra shot back with an annoyed shrug. 

“In any case, he threw up all over the curb and fell in his own vomit, Phasma and I saw no reason to help him, seeing as he refused our help up to that point, and he ended up wandering off towards Church Street.” 

“Typical frigid dyke,” Patrick snapped. “Heartless bitch.”

Phasma tensed, but Maetra leaned against her wife and shot the man a nasty grin, her white teeth gleaming between dark sanguine painted lips.

“I’m not heartless, hon. I have three back at work in jars.” 

Patrick took a few steps back, then shot a look at Kylo and Hux leaning against each other, Kylo’s arm around Hux’s shoulders. His lip curled in disgust. 

“I see how it is. Turned this back booth into the faggot corner. You planning on making this whole pub into a gay club, Steele?”

Despite his instincts telling him to keep his face away, Hux turned to shoot a glare at him, and to defend Phasma and Maetra. 

“What I do with my own goddamn business is my own goddamn business,” Phasma replied coolly. 

“If you don’t like the fact that my wife, my boss and his boyfriend have taken a private booth to have drinks together out of sight of your easily offended sensibilities in order to create a safe space for you, then you can go to MacSharry’s. Maybe they’ll give you a MAGA cap for your first visit.” 

Patrick flinched at the words ‘safe space’ but was fixated on Hux’s face.

Once again, Hux knew he should look away, feign disdainful disinterest, ignore him, and blow him off, but he knew his eyes, his mouth and nose gave him away. His jaw had sharpened, his cheekbones had become more defined, and the softness of his overall face shape had become lean and masculine. There was only so much that could change with hormones, and only so much that could be forgotten when you spend a full hour with your face inches away from someone else’s. 

Once again, Hux was feeling that cold, prickling dread that came from the dawning recognition on the face of someone who had hurt him, the mounting fear that came from seeing the revulsion and hatred building in the eyes of someone who’d caused him more than one form of pain and misery. 

The disgust of a bigot who was so insecure with their own sexuality and beliefs, that they panicked at even the slightest threat of being associated with a transgender person in any way, and was easily provoked to violence to protect their image. 

“Your boss, huh? Hux?” Patrick asked quietly. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Phasma snapped. “You’ve made your opinion clear. Go ‘bout your night or I’ll kick you out on your ass.” 

“I should have known there was something wrong about you,” Patrick sneered. “Why you fought it, made it so damned difficult that night. Is that why you came back? Still mad about it, and now you want everyone to think I’m a fucking faggot because I slept with a goddamn tranny?”

His voice was rising, and Hux was frozen in fear, his heart pounding in panic. Phasma had gotten up and had pushed past Maetra, who had gone silent as the rest of the bar around them. 

Beside Hux, Kylo was shuddering, his fingers digging painfully into Hux’s upper arm as he crushed him to his side, and Hux slid his arm around Kylo’s waist. Kylo was trying so _hard_ to keep control, to keep himself from exploding into a ball of bone, fur, fangs and antlers, to keep himself from devouring the threat to his- his what?

Hux didn’t even know at this point. 

Kylo’s scent was changing- it was less delicious, and more acrid. It smelled like pure adrenaline and rage, like battery acid and ozone above a hot summer highway, and it was mildly terrifying- because Hux had learned to associate the scent of ozone and asphalt with Kylo changing his form.

Also because under the sharp acrid scent of anger, there was a cloying scent of rot, decay and indole that curled underneath like fog in a swamp. 

“You get the hell out of my pub, Patrick,” Phasma said quietly as she stood in front of him, a good six inches taller than him. 

“So is that it? I give you my business- me and my buddies- for years, when folks were saying a bar run by a dyke couldn’t be any good, and you run me out over a tranny because it pays you extra money?” Patrick asked loudly. “If you ask me, you, your bitch wife, the tranny and the faggot should be run out of town and get things here back to normal, back to the way God intended it.” 

If anyone supported his opinion, they weren’t saying it. The bar was quiet, the music had stopped, and the staff had come out of the kitchen, concerned by the quiet that was broken by the shouting. Bill had pulled a baseball bat from under the counter, and was holding it casually at his side, grip ready to swing if he needed to break up a fight.

Not that he’d need to- hardly anyone fucked with Phasma. 

“Your business is hardly a boon, given you all have enormous tabs you’ve yet to pay,” Phasma growled. 

“You come into good Christian towns trying to make it a liberal den of sin, trying to corrupt our children, and then have the balls to say we owe you anything when you’re corrupting our community?” Patrick sneered. 

“Maybe my payment is not having you abominations lynched, or dragged behind my truck for ten miles like you oughta be.” 

The silence in the pub had gone from awkward tension to something else entirely- fear of being accessory to a death threat. Fear of being associated with the target of the man’s hate. The fight or flight response of those who didn’t want to be part of the conflict.

If Patrick was going to say anything else, he didn’t get the chance. 

In a single fluid movement, Kylo had gotten up, seized Patrick by the throat, and lifted him bodily off the floor, his feet dangling. Patrick scrabbled at Kylo’s hands, gasping for breath as he was held up and out, Kylo staring at him with cold dead eyes. 

“Everyone heard that threat,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous, but loud enough for most to hear over Patrick’s gagging and coughing. 

“If you want to keep your tongue, I’d suggest using it in a more civil manner.”

Patrick’s face was starting to turn red, almost purple, and Kylo let him drop to the floor in a heap. Patrick clutched his throat and chest, gasping and sputtering. 

“Goddamn freak!” he spat as he got to his feet, glaring at Hux, who’d pressed himself back into the booth, as far against the wall as he could get to avoid anyone seeing him. 

“Maybe you should tell everyone about John’s accident, and how you tried to pay us all off,” Patrick wheezed. “Maybe if you wanna stay safe in this town, you should comp us for the suffering we all went through because of you and your cursed property.”

“That’s _enough,_ ” Phasma all but bellowed. She grabbed Patrick by the back of his shirt, dragged him to the door and threw him out into the street. She turned and faced the stunned silent patrons of the pub. 

“Anyone else got a problem with me and my wife, or my boss and his boyfriend? Anyone else gonna be a bootlicking bigot or cause trouble, because I am offering free cans of ass kicking, on the house if you want some,” she said loudly as she cracked her knuckles loudly, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

“If you truck with him or his right-wing ideals, you can get the hell out of my pub. First invite is free. Otherwise, you show up and cause trouble on that bigot’s behalf, I’ll have the cops come pull you out- if I don’t kick your ass first.”

The bar was quiet, and no one moved, but many eyes were staring at the tall, dark, well dressed man who had lifted a man of five feet, ten inches and two hundred pounds with one hand, and no effort. 

“S’what I thought,” Phasma growled.

Kylo smoothed back his hair- which had come out of its ribbon- and recollected his composure. 

“My apologies. I do not take threats to my beloved or insults to my friends lightly. Keep that in mind,” Kylo said by way of a threatening apology to the shocked patrons of the bar.

“Sorry, Phasma,” he said, truly apologetic as he turned his gaze to her. 

“None needed, Kylo. Thanks for having my back.”

Phasma gave the all-clear sign to Bill, who tucked the baseball bat back under the counter, and turned the music back on. The staff carefully went back to work, and soon, the bar was full of buzzing conversation and music again. All the while, Phasma and Kylo watched the patrons of the pub.

Two men that Phasma knew to be associates of Patrick got up once the bar was no longer watching everyone’s every move. They shot angry glares at Phasma’s booth. Phasma smiled cheekily and flipped her middle finger at them. 

“Don’t come back,” she called. “Or I’ll kick your ass right out again!”

Kylo slid back into the booth and carefully held out an arm to Hux. Without thinking, Hux immediately slid closer, under his arm and pressed his face into his chest. He shuddered, the fear and nerves and guilt of dragging Phasma and Maetra into his mess boiling over. Kylo rubbed his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Hux mumbled into Kylo’s shirt. 

It was times like this he was grateful that his hormone therapy made it physically difficult- almost impossible- to cry. Since he’d started taking testosterone, the feelings would boil up, over, and out, but tears, the act of sobbing and release, rarely came- if at all. Hux could count on both hands and have fingers left over of the times he’d successfully cried in the past eight years. 

Tears didn’t come- he’d cried what little tears he could manage a few days ago when Poe, Rey and Finn had told him he would be safe with them, and that they would support him if he needed it. His tears were rare, and once spent, took a long time to come again. So for now, he just wrenched his eyes shut and took comfort from Kylo’s presence.

“Don’t be,” Phasma said soothingly, cutting into his thoughts. “This town’s a backwards podunk and it has hateful people in it. You can’t be held accountable for their ignorance and hatred.”

“I dragged you both into this mess. You wouldn’t have been insulted or threatened if not for me.”

“Oh, hon, it’s not the first time we’ve had folks like him get kicked out of here for being assholes,” Maetra said. “The first year I was here, I had to go everywhere with Phasma to get it through the local incels that I was not on the market because I didn’t want them- and that their gross white cock wasn’t going to ‘fix the problem’ of me being a lesbian. We had to get ugly to get results.” 

“Usually a fist to the face makes the pretty adamant ones stop,” Phasma agreed with a grin. 

Hux pulled back from Kylo’s chest, and Maetra reached across the table, beckoning. Hux reached back out, and she took his hand in both of hers, giving it a squeeze. Her dark bronze hands were soft, warm and small, with long delicate fingers and perfectly manicured- but short- nails. They were unpainted- because gloves would ruin painted nails.

“We’ve only known you a few days and Phasma and I would punch anyone who came after you. Folks like us, we have to take care of each other.”

“Poe Dameron said the same thing,” Hux said, reaching out with his other hand and squeezing hers appreciatively. Maetra laughed.

“Oh, Dameron. The only man that is allowed to flirt with me, because it’s just how he is- and honestly, if I _had_ to pick a dude…”

“Same, honestly,” Phasma replied, grinning. Maetra lifted a brow.

“Phasma. Love of my life. You’d break him in half.”

“And he would love it,” Phasma agreed, and Hux and Kylo both laughed. 

“I had a crush on him in high school. Glad he’s happy in his current arrangement,” Hux admitted.

“Good thing you yourself have a happy current arrangement,” Kylo cut in, pressing a very obnoxious and noisy kiss to Hux’s cheek. 

Hux sputtered. Kylo was taking this farce very seriously- and he wasn’t sure he entirely minded. Kylo’s arm was warm around him, his body a solid, comforting presence, and his scent had lost some of the acrid edge, and was slowly becoming warm and delicious again. 

“I think maybe we should go home,” Hux said. “I still have to groom and feed Milly before bed.”

“Right, you have a horse,” Phasma said. “And a new dog, I hear?”

“A stray,” Hux confirmed. “He was lingering around the house, and he was annoying at first, but living out in the backwoods where coyotes are a threat to Milly, it’s nice to have a dog around. He’s a good boy, so I decided to keep him.” 

“What kind of dog?” Maetra asked. “I’m more of a cat person- Phasma and I have a black cat named Bast- but I like all animals.”

Hux paused. He never knew what to tell curious folks what Kylo’s canine form was. He mostly looked like a Borzoi, but his legs and coat were thicker than what was standard. The curve of his spine, the set of his ears, and the feral intelligence in his eyes could have pointed to Belgian Shepherd, or perhaps Siberian Husky. 

Only Hux knew better. He was no dog, and he never would be. Even that form wasn’t a dog.

He was a Black Shuck.

“Mix- I’m guessing Borzoi mixed with something else, probably Siberian Husky,” he replied.

“He sounds pretty. What colour is he?” Phasma asked.

“Mostly black, but there’s some pewter silvering on the underside of his belly and tail, a touch on his muzzle. He looks like he’s always walking in fog. He’s a pain sometimes, because he’s clingy, he leaves dead things on my doorstep, he hogs the bed, and he’s barely housebroken. I guess I put up with him because he’s a gorgeous dog- and at least he knows how to heel,” Hux said with a grin. 

“And on _that_ note,” Kylo said, nudging Hux. “Should we get home so I can try to start peace talks between us, since he won’t be keen on giving up my spot, while you groom Milly?”

“What’s the damage, Phasma?” Hux asked, pulling his wallet from his pocket. Phasma shook her head. 

“Nope. You came here for an evening out, and you got harassed. I’m not gonna take your money, hon.”

Hux sighed, but pulled two crisp twenties from his billfold anyway. 

“For the waitress and the cook, then, and for you, because Kylo clearly enjoyed his absinthe, that Old Fashioned was incredible, and the food was amazing.”

Phasma smiled and finally took the twenties.

“I don’t need a tip, but the kitchen and the waitress will appreciate it, Hux. Thanks.” 

The four of them pulled out of the booth, and Phasma followed Hux and Kylo to the door, dropping the twenties into the tip jar- and the waitress gave them a huge appreciative smile. As they passed by tables, she pointedly put on her Bouncer Face to nip any aggression in the bud that might start from anyone who thought they might get in their licks in on Hux. 

Fortunately, no one still in the bar had similar opinions to Patrick, or decided it wasn’t worth it, and they got outside unmolested. Phasma stayed with them until they got to Hux’s car- where Hux immediately did a full inspection of the Rolls. 

After being pleasantly surprised that there was no vandalism, sabotage or even a glob of spit to be seen, Hux exchanged goodbyes with Phasma and Maetra. Kylo gave them both a tight hug, making them both laugh- and Maetra commented that Kylo smelled really nice. They said goodnight, and Kylo got into the car. 

“I like them,” Kylo said after they pulled out and headed home. “I feel better about you going to work, knowing they’re there with you.”

“You overdid it a bit with pretending to be my boyfriend,” Hux said, the statement spilling out before he could stop himself. Kylo grinned, his teeth flashing in the soft white blue light of the dash. 

“Who’s pretending, Sebastian?”

Hux glanced at him, shocked. Kylo continued to grin.

“What?”

“Just two months ago, you tried to _eat me,_ Kylo. And now you want to _date me?_ ”

“Not really. I just want to enjoy your physical company and spend all my time with you,” Kylo replied. “We’re bound by blood, and I feel most comfortable when I’m around you, or know that you’re safe.”

“Kylo.”

“What?”  
  


“That is the definition of dating, courting, of being a monogamous or dedicated, exclusive pair.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

Kylo considered this for a moment, and the car was quiet, save for the Phantom’s thrumming engine, and the occasional thump of the tires running over uneven asphalt. 

“Then, yes, I want to date you. I understand courting, and that would come before dating, yes?” he finally asked. 

Hux swallowed, flushing. 

“Are you asking to court me, Kylo?”

Kylo nodded, his face growing serious. 

“Creatures like me… we don’t move the way humans do. Time is different for us, and blood changes everything. Your blood is in my veins, mine in yours. In a way, for me, we are already bonded.”

“So you’re just going to continue to ignore me pointing out that two months ago, you **_tried to eat me,_ **” Hux growled. 

Kylo actually had the presence of mind to look remorseful, and he hung his head a bit, reticent. 

“That was before you tamed me, before I knew what it was about you that kept me from harming you. Now… I can’t harm you, even by accident, even if I wanted to. The only way I could cause harm to you is if you yourself asked me to,” he said quietly. 

“So let’s stop beating around the bush, Kylo. Tell me what you want, where we stand, and where we go from here,” Hux replied. 

“I can’t harm you, but I want to- the curse drives me to. I want to protect you, as dictated by the oath I swore. And now… I want to be with you, in every regard, because our blood bond makes me need to be close to you,” Kylo said. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the changes by now,” he added. “You can feel me, my presence, when I’m close, and it’s getting stronger. Your sense of smell is getting attuned to my scent, and you can read my intentions with a slowly lowering level of effort.”

Hux was quiet as he turned onto Highway 48. The route was lovely, the full moon casting light over the countryside. He had noticed how attuned he was to Kylo at the bar- he’d been able to sense his mood though his scent alone, the set of his muscles. He’d also felt Kylo’s presence when he’d come close in the funeral parlour- though it had been sporadic. It proved Kylo’s point, that their connection was growing stronger by the hour. 

“I noticed,” Hux admitted. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though.”

“The real question is what you want, Sebastian.” 

“What I want,” Hux murmured, eyes on the road. “You mean from you. For us.”

Kylo said nothing, but in the silence of the car, Hux felt the agreement, the acknowledgement curl from him. It was an oddly comfortable sensation, like a warm drink in his belly, radiating warmth through his chest.

“I don’t know, Kylo,” Hux admitted. “I’m still trying to come to grips with what you’ve done… with what you are, and my feelings towards you in that regard.”

“Clarify?” Kylo asked, trying not to let his hurt show at Hux’s comment about what he was. 

Hux was silent for a few minutes, his eyes narrowing in thought as he focused on the road. He turned onto Highway 9, the sound of the blinker loud in the silence of the car. Kylo shifted nervously in his seat, unsure of how he felt about how long Hux was taking to answer the question. 

The Phantom hugged the curve before Woodhaven, the lights cutting paths into the moonlit night. Hux pulled into the driveway and turned the car off, the headlights blinking out. Hux continued to sit in silence, his eyes tracking back and forth over something Kylo couldn’t see. 

“Wait,” Kylo said, breaking the silence. 

“What?” Hux said, almost sounding drowsy, coming up for air from his thoughts. 

“You need to know. Need to see.”

Kylo got out of the car and headed for the slaughterhouse. Hux exited the Phantom, but lingered by it for a minute, unsure if Kylo wanted him to follow. Kylo looked over his shoulder and inclined his head. In the light of the full moon, his sclera were black, the irises glowing red from his tapetum lucidum. Smoke was swirling around him, and shortly, the massive hellhound was making its way towards the slaughterhouse. 

“Follow me, Sebastian. You need to see. It will make things clear, and help you understand that you can trust me, implicitly…. And that in a way, I need you to help me.”

He headed off toward the entrance, and Hux followed, reluctantly, moving through the overgrown thicket after him. Dead foliage crackled and snapped under his feet, and living underbrush gave way to let him by. All the while, a stench rose in his nostrils that was unmistakable. 

Rot. Blood. Gore. The thick, sickly-sweet indolic perfume of night blooming flowers. Musk. Fur. 

Hux balked at the entrance, concrete and stone crunching and grinding under his heel. A sharp pain had lanced through him, a pinpoint flash of light had sparked between his eyes, and a wave of vertigo rushed over him. The ground rocked, the building swam and swayed around him, and he lost sight of Kylo. 

_This is it. This is where I die,_ he thought, with great difficulty- his thoughts felt as though he were pulling them, word by word, out of a pool of molasses, only to find each one was as slick as an eel upon grabbing hold- and the thought was gone and forgotten in a flash. 

His vision filled with the sight of Kylo’s bleached skull, the jaws parting, and he could see the points of red light in his sockets. Breath steamed and fogged between the fangs, and Hux closed his eyes. He realised, with an odd sort of comfort, that he was not afraid of Kylo anymore. He wasn’t afraid of dying to Kylo’s fangs and claws.

He was afraid of going deeper into his den- because he understood that the further he went, the deeper in the underworld he ventured, and there was no guarantee he would survive the excursion.

Kylo’s muzzle bumped against his back, and Hux opened his eyes, realising Kylo was beside him, nudging him with his giant bony snout. He snorted softly, and licked Hux’s hand. Hux reached out and stroked the side of his skull, oddly comforted by the texture of bone under his fingers.

“Grab hold of my fur,” Kylo rumbled, the building vibrating beneath their feet. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Hux slid his hand into the thick ruff of fur that circled Kylo’s neck, and his hand jerked in surprise. It was softer, silkier, and fluffier than he ever would have imagined, but had a tingling, static-like feeling that made him think of cobwebs, yet when he curled his fingers tight around the handful, it was thick and substantial.

“I’m here,” Kylo said softly, his voice low in his deep barrel chest, and it soothed, reassured Hux. 

“What is this? I couldn’t think… it was hard…” he trailed off, realising it was easier to keep hold of his thoughts, that the vertigo was gone, the pain subsided- because Kylo was there. 

“My lair is partially in the underworld. I need you to see. You’re sick because it’s not for humans to know. Even those who are attuned to it cannot visit for long without sacrificing their sanity.”

“And this is a good idea, _why?_ ” Hux asked, spluttering as Kylo turned his head, his long neck twisting as he licked Hux’s face. Hux saw his tongue pull away with blood on it, and felt the cool sensation of liquid on his nose. He touched his nose with his free hand- unwilling to let go of Kylo’s fur- and it came away dark and wet. His nose was bleeding.

“Again. This is a good idea… **_why_ **?” he repeated. 

“I need you to see,” Kylo repeated. “Come, Sebastian.”

They descended into the bowels of the slaughterhouse, and the smell grew stronger. The darkness became thicker, almost impenetrable by the moonlight, yet Hux could still see- the light from Kylo’s eyes led the way. 

There was no sound, save for their footsteps- Hux’s shoes, and Kylo’s unique cadence of paws, claws and hooves- and their individual breaths. Kylo’s was deep, guttural and slow, and Hux’s was shallow, high and quick. 

Hux knew the building’s original levels below didn’t go down much deeper than a basement, but it didn’t take long for them to go past that- and Hux dug in his heels when he noticed the walls. Kylo turned his head back to look at him, flicking an ear. 

“What is it?”

“The- the walls. You didn’t think to tell me about _the walls?”_

Kylo flattened his ears. 

“I had hoped you wouldn’t notice. Apparently, your eyes are getting better at seeing in the dark faster than I anticipated.”

Hux didn’t answer, his gorge rising as he looked at the walls- and yet, at the same time, he was mesmerised by the organic, macabre display before him. 

The walls were covered in spiralling, outstretching, winding and curling patterns of raised textures, interspersed with clouds of fungus, mould, and various plant growth that included tiny blossoms so bright that they practically glowed in the low light, in shades of white, purple, blue and a colour Hux realised he could not name. They were in intricate shapes that were foreign to him, different from any flowers he’d ever seen, in spirals, blades and bulbous hoods and pendulous drops. From each of them wafted that thick floral musk so heavy with indole it just barely crossed the threshold of pleasant to foul.

From what Hux could see, some of it was roots, slowly extending upwards and forward from the depths into which they descended. It was a beautiful mix of plant growth and fungal growth expected in a dark, humid place.

The scent was getting stronger, with notes of something else Hux had smelled before, working with the dead- skatole, cadaverine and putrescine. That didn’t make sense, why would he be smelling chemicals that were a product of animal rot when the twisting patterns on the walls were fungal and-

Hux froze, his eyes registrering what was slowly entwining through the plant and fungal growth. 

It was flesh and bones.

Between the branching growth of fungus, vine and root, strips and shreds of flesh, lines of bones and congealed gobbets and strings of blood wove in branching fractal patterns, increasing in density and regularity- as was the stench of rot. The deeper they went, Hux saw they began to intertwine, becoming one- a mix of flesh and vegetation, of blood, fungus and bone in a dizzying array of putrid scent. 

“Kylo…,” Hux whispered, throat tight as he struggled not to gag. “What is this?”

As he spoke, the fleshy roots visibly pulsed, as if in reaction to his voice, and a soft, deep heartbeat sounded through the quiet darkness. Hux leaned heavily against Kylo’s side, a swoon of panic nearly overtaking him as under the pulse, there was a soft, squelching sound of the fleshy roots writhing against the wall with the movement of the heartbeat.

“It’s the reason I cannot change what I am, Sebastian. Come. It’s only a bit further.” 

“I can’t. This is unnatural. Take me back,” Hux managed to demand, holding tight to Kylo’s fur. 

“You’re safe at my side. I promise you, no harm will come to you as long as you stay by my side, but I need you to see,” Kylo replied, his tone firm, his voice soft. 

Hux swallowed, and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt in order to pull the collar of his undershirt up over his nose in a futile attempt to block out the ever-increasing stench of rot and decay, blood and gore. 

“This is… this is fresh,” he choked out, muffled. Kylo bobbed his head, and Hux noticed the top of the tunnel was obscured in shadow. How tall was it? How deep were they? How long had they been underground? How far did this tunnel go?

Kylo flattened his ears. 

“Not entirely… it’s from Codi.”

“But you- you ate her.”

“I ate her organs. I always eat those. The muscle, the bone, the nerves and sinew… I use those for my fortification.”

Hux wanted to ask what he meant by fortification, but was caught off guard, and stopped in his tracks, as he saw that the walls- while still covered in the putrefying mesh of vines, fungus, roots, veins, sinew and bone- was becoming less substantial, less corporeal, and had shadows rippling on the other side of the macabre barrier. 

“Kylo,” Hux whispered, his throat tight and dry, fingers curling painfully tight in the hellhound’s fur. 

“What was that?”

“What I am protecting you, the town, possibly the entire region from,” Kylo said quietly. “Those are the residents of the underworld- and not the peaceful spirits I would prefer to socialise with.”

“But what are they?” Hux pressed. The movement of the shadows was unnerving, almost nauseating to watch, as they had a mechanical, jerky twitch, but with a rippling, almost fluid cadence that didn’t translate properly to Hux’s mind, and was hard to process in a way that made sense. 

“Agents of the main four elements of destruction,” Kylo said, growling low in his throat as a dark form edged, twitched and glided to the barrier, a long spindly and wavering limb reaching out in Hux’s direction. 

“The four elements of destruction?” Hux asked, the blood draining from his face as unseen eyes fixed on his own. 

“Death. War. Famine. Pestilence. Horsemen. Harbingers. Bringers of apocalypse. Natural malevolent forces that occur in the natural course of things, but are kept in check by the barriers that exist between the living and the dead. Barriers like this one.”

Kylo turned to look back at his ward, and extended his long flat tongue to lick at his face encouragingly, reassuringly. 

“You’re safe,” he rumbled softly, then continued on.

Hux noticed their footsteps were softer, muffled, and when he heard the first soft, wet squelch, and felt the first squelching crunch underfoot, his stomach churned. He refused to look down, but he knew the floor was starting to be covered with the unholy entwined mess of plant and gore.

“I don’t understand. This barrier… it’s … organic.”

“It is, because I’ve been growing and cultivating it for centuries,” Kylo replied, coming to a stop. 

“What-” Hux started, and looked around Kylo’s shoulder to see where they’d ended up. 

The pathway hadn’t ended that he could see, but that meant nothing, as Hux couldn’t see a ceiling or an end- just more impenetrable darkness. What he could see, however, was that the tunnel had widened and opened into a massive chamber that was the size of a large commercial garage, the walls thick with the ropy vines and cords of sinew and bone. 

Kylo led him to the back of the chamber, and Hux saw with a mix of horror and disgust, that there was a nest of fur, bones, cloth, hide and who-knew-what-else, all woven through with the awful strands that made up the barrier. 

The nest was large, enough to park a large truck in, or something bigger, perhaps. It was deep, and the inside was mostly fur and hides. The inside of the nest might have almost been appealing with how soft and comfortable it looked- were it not for the smell. 

Oddly, Hux noticed, his senses were registering the stench, but he was not having a visceral reaction to it. Either he had gotten used to it, or Kylo’s own scent, wafting from his fur, was countering it, or soothing his sense of smell to accept it. Or, he considered, the bond they had, the one he was still trying to understand, was changing his body’s opinions of what was a bad scent and what wasn’t, despite what his mind said otherwise.

Hux looked up at Kylo, and jerked back, as he realised Kylo had slowly been getting bigger without him noticing, and was now at his true size. Kylo’s eyes regarded him carefully, steam roiling from his nose and from between his jaws. 

His head still pounded, and he wiped his nose, blood still slowly trickling from his left nostril. Voices hissed softly, almost inaudibly behind the barrier, scratching at his ears, the inside of his head like tiny, almost microscopic razor blades, and it made his very skull ache. 

His heart rate increased exponentially, and a dull roar filled his ears, pressure building around his eardrums, and a sense of vertigo rushed through him, the room spinning and rocking around him. He fought for a steady foothold in the tangled web of rot, his vision swimming. 

All the while, Hux had the nagging feeling that he knew the voices prying at his ears, but at that moment, he couldn’t place them. All he knew was that it might become clear, that his pain might get better, if he got closer to the barrier, and got closer to the entities on the other side...

“Sebastian.”

Hux stopped in mid stride as Kylo licked his face again, and he huffed, wiping his face again to clear the hellhound spit from his nose and mouth. Blessedly, unexpectedly, his head was clear, his world stabilised, and his heart slowed. Unwilling to admit how easily he’d been tempted, how close he’d come to giving in to whatever these things were, and most importantly, unwilling to thank Kylo for his help, he blustered. 

“Stop that,” he scowled. 

“The smell of blood is attracting them, and not in a good way,” Kylo said matter-of-factly. He could sense Hux was embarrassed that he’d been so easily seduced, and knew that now was not the time to lecture him. 

Hux saw more shadows approaching the barrier- and it was then that Hux noticed the membrane of shadow that he’d noticed before was not there behind Kylo’s nest. The barrier Kylo had created, had been cultivating for so long, was practically solid, a webbing made nearly whole over centuries, was stretched over a hole in the veil. 

The only thing between the things on the other side was Kylo- his nest and his barrier. 

“Is… that a hole to hell?” he asked, his voice quiet. He was suddenly very aware of the entities near the barrier, and tried to shut out the voices whispering his name. He tried to ignore how some of them sounded so familiar that it caused an ache in his ribs. 

Kylo moved to block his view of the hole. He lay down and lowered his head to bring himself as close as he could to eye level with Hux. 

“You only know about this curse from your family’s side. I know you read the book. It was originally made and bound with a piece of my hide. Anything inscribed in that book with blood, I know, and remember.”

Hux remembered how supple, soft, and ancient the cover had been, and how he’d wondered if the book had been treated with magic due to how well it was holding up over the ages. It made sense that it had been bound in the hide of a hellhound. 

“Did… did they cut it from you?” he asked quietly, feeling guilty, even though he wasn’t the one who’d made the book. 

He had sliced at Kylo twice now, with one of his own fangs and claws, though.

“No. I gave it freely. It was the third generation Hux that had ‘inherited’ me, and he was deathly afraid of me, but respectful- and seemed remorseful of the reasons he had been cursed with me. We had an oddly tenuous peace until his own son was old enough to tend to the land, and I offered a piece of my hide to create a family ledger that would help bridge a gap between us as we learned about each other.”

Kylo flattened his ears, then flicked one up again as a thin, whispery and reedy wail echoed from the other side of the barrier. He turned his head and let out a loud, deep growling hiss at the barrier, the wailing retreating a distance. 

“I wasn’t entirely keen on my existence being recorded along with my weaknesses, but it strengthened my tie to the bloodline I was charged with destroying. It solidified his trust of me, and he freely gave himself to me when his son was ready. He followed me down into my lair, and gave himself to my task.”

Hux felt something moving close to him on the other side of the webbing, and he stepped into the space between Kylo’s hind leg and belly, sitting down and leaning against his flank, ignoring what the rot on the floor might be doing to his slacks. He was too terrified of being close enough to the wall for whatever those things were to touch him, and Kylo’s body was reassuring. 

“And what is that task?” he asked quietly. 

Kylo turned his head again, bony muzzle pointing to the barrier. Somehow, without lips or cheeks, he spat, and Hux could smell the copper of his own blood that had been in Kylo’s mouth- the salt and copper bright and metallic in the sickly sweet scent of decay and the warm musk of Kylo’s fur. The blood and spittle landed on the barrier, and Hux leaned forward to look around Kylo’s massive sides, and watched the barrier where Kylo indicated. 

Nothing happened, not immediately, save for the constant movement flickering in the dark between the strands. Then, as if on cue, shrieks, gibbering and wailing, a cacophony of ungodly sounds resonated _up_ from the darkness- it continued much farther down that Hux wanted to think about. 

As various forms came closer, Hux could see in the light of Kylo’s eyes- and with an unsettling realisation that he was better at seeing in the dark than he remembered- the forms of the entities, and wished he couldn’t.

Most were impossible to define by his mind, and trying to define what they looked like, what they might be, how many limbs, how they moved, all made his head scream in pain as he tried to force the rules of normality on them.

Others could not be looked at directly- any time he tried to look at them to see them, his brain yanked his eyes away, refusing to reconcile their image, refusing any attempt at processing them. They left afterimages on his retinas that made his mouth go bitter and wet with the thick ropes of saliva that preceded vomiting, but his stomach didn’t heave or protest. He spat the mouthful of thick saliva, wiping his mouth, trying to clear his mind, but the others filled his vision, and he couldn’t stop trying to process what he was seeing. 

Others simply were there, but were blurry, unfocused, and twitched, glitched and jerked in and out of focus as if he were looking at a corrupted, grainy video instead of something very real and horrifyingly wrong right in front of him. 

Then there were the ones he could see, and he wished he couldn’t. 

They moved individually, but as one, in tandem, but also independently and as if in throes of chaotic fits. They blended together but were separate. He saw multiple skulls fused at the cranium, or at the spine, moving like the twitching parts of a sea creature. Jaws opened and gaped, and multiple tongues lashed within. Tongues belonging to all, but also to one, shared and hoarded between each set of teeth and gaping, silently screaming jaws. 

The skulls were bare, but fleshed, bloody but clean, with burning eyes in empty sockets. Fangs glinted, and flat incisors flashed. Grinding molars clicked, and sharp carnassial teeth snapped. Hooves clattered, paws scratched, antlers flashed and howls echoed from the crowded assembly of heads, and Hux felt dizzy, as each head was attached to a single neck, but multiple bodies that at once had two legs, and four, were quadrupedal and human all at once. 

“The woods remember when hands are red,” Kylo murmured. “They always remember you, alive and dead.”

Hux pressed against Kylo’s flanks, chest heaving, limbs trembling and cold sweat drenching his clammy skin. Panic, fear, dread, and guilt raked him like claws. He wanted to run, but to his horror, he realised he wouldn’t know which way to go. The darkness of this place surrounded him and hid the way out. He’d run right into the entities of the underworld and would be lost, but he feared his sanity was slowly crumbling with every minute he lingered. 

“Kylo, please, can we-”

“You need to see,” Kylo cut him off. 

Hux watched as Kylo lowered his head and began to retch, his flanks heaving against his back. His throat rippled, bulged, and his jaws parted. With a wet squelch, a slick slipping and the unmistakable sound of meat sliding along a wet surface, Kylo regurgitated a large mass of flesh onto the floor. 

Hux shrieked, high pitched and undignified, skittering on hands and feet backwards towards Kylo’s haunches. The long fluffy, furry tail curled around him, and Hux looked up and back to see that deeper in the darkness, a mass of those fluid skulls were peering at him from the veil that wasn’t torn and webbed together. Jaws clicked opened and shut, thick ropes of ichor and saliva dangling between them, and Hux made a strangled sound- a scream that wouldn’t come from a throat too tight with existential dread. 

“Be still,” Kylo commanded, pulling him close with his tail. “Do not leave my side. They cannot come through the veil, but my barrier is weak until I finish my work. You are safe with me, but you must. Not. Leave. My. Side.”

Hux looked back at Kylo to see his skull facing him, eyes burning at him. The ears were wilted, occasionally flicking around at each new threatening sound beyond the barrier, but the eyes were focused on him. 

“I can keep you safe, but you have to trust me, Sebastian.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Hux shrieked, losing his composure. His sanity was at its limits and he was hyperventilating, his nose bleeding again. 

“You need to see.”

“You keep saying that,” Hux snapped. “See what?”

Kylo turned his head back to the pile of steaming flesh and bone he’d regurgitated, and began ripping it with his fangs and claws, stretching it as he pulled his head up and back. The flesh somehow stretched far past what muscle could ordinarily do, elongating into ropes, shreds and ribbons. 

Just like the tendrils on the walls. 

Hux stared in horror as Kylo essentially used the mass of flesh like a ball of wool to create a spool of fleshy thread, utilising claw, fang and tongue to stretch and separate muscle from bone. In the weak light of his eyes, Hux could see it was all coated with a clear, viscous fluid that seemed to permeate the muscle. A secretion from Kylo’s mouth, stomach or throat? Did it increase elasticity and tensile flexibility and strength?

Hux covered his ears, unable to stand the ripping sounds, but found he couldn’t look away from the awful process. Kylo was meticulous in his unspeakable craft, and there was a delicacy to his motions, a level of care and attention that spoke of ages of practice. 

Once Kylo was done with his horrible spinning, he began cracking bones into various pieces of varying sizes, sorted them, and then turned his face back to Hux. His muzzle was oddly clean of blood, but when Hux considered the work, the initial state of his raw material, he hadn’t seen blood. All he saw was the thick clear fluid on his teeth and snout. 

“Follow me. Stay close,” Kylo said. His breath was pungent, but did not stink of vomit or rot. Just an odd, pungent musk that was almost sweet- it reminded him somewhat of ambergris. 

Hux got unsteadily to his feet, slowly, and Kylo rose beside him, the ‘skein’ of fleshy threat in his jaws. Hux wanted to ask what he was doing, but resisted- he’d see soon enough. 

Kylo approached the barrier, sat on his haunches, and extended the toes of his forepaws. His dew claws extended, and he began using them to pull the ropes of muscles out. He attached various sections to the webbing he’d already made, pausing here and there to weave in a section of bone. Occasionally, he’d retch, producing more of the thick clear fluid, which he used to adhere the macabre materials to the wall. 

“Is that…” Hux began, shying back and pressing against Kylo’s flank as the many-skulled creature moved closer, the many faces staring at him from hundreds of eye sockets. 

“It’s John,” Kylo said flatly, winding more sinew around and between a spiral of roots, that pulsed and flexed at his touch, and Hux felt his stomach heave at the sight. He gripped Kylo’s fur roughly and yanked- hard. 

“You killed him?”

“I had to.”

“Did you?”

His voice was tired, the tone of an argument that he felt like he’d had too many times, though it was only the third or fourth time he’d argued with Kylo about his need to murder, slaughter and devour. 

“I did. It’s not just because of what he said, but because his evil nature made him a more moral choice as prey and fortification,” Kylo replied as if explaining to a child that eating vegetables was good for him.

“You’re making a wall… out of human remains?” he asked weakly. 

“Humans that do bad things to those who don’t deserve it because they believe such cruelty was deserved due to hatred,” Kylo said, weaving twitching roots and pulsing flesh. “The flesh and bone of the dead, with living plants, and the fungus that thrives on both are representative of my status in life- not dead, not alive, but the state between both, and that which feeds on the interim state.”

“How did this hole happen?”

“Me.”

Kylo’s voice was laden with regret, shame, guilt and frustration. He continued to work as he spoke. 

“I was not made to do bad things. I was a protector, not an avenger. Using my oath to force me to do bad things pulled me inside out- and through the veil as I was forced to change in order to carry out the curse I was charged to bear on your bloodline. Pulling me through the veil tore it, and put upon me a charge even stronger, even more important than cursing your bloodline.”

He was almost done weaving the remains of John into the webbing, and Hux saw that some of the gaps were closed- but he did not feel safer. He could see the horrors that stalked on the other side, whispering his name.

“I fought these entities for a while, then decided to let a few out to wreak havoc on your family, to do my work for me while I guarded the opening. This backfired- they carried plague, famine and war with them, and death followed.” 

“The yellow fever and malaria outbreaks. The cholera issues. The boll weevil infestations that nearly destroyed the cotton industry,” Hux whispered.

“I was responsible for the near destruction of Baldwin County and the surrounding land,” Kylo said sadly, spitting one last glob of mucous to bind the end of the thread he’d woven into his nightmare tapestry. 

“Come,” he said, and lowered himself to his belly. “Get on my back, I’ll carry you out. You’re weak.” 

Hux heaved himself up, nearly slipping on the soft thick fur, and Kylo nudged his arse with his snout, giving him a boost. Hux grabbed a spine and hoisted himself between two of the vertebrae of Kylo’s spine. 

“I am really grateful I don’t have a dick and balls right now, or this would be really uncomfortable,” he said, all tact gone in his current state. 

Kylo snorted and got to his feet.

“Hold tight, I’m getting you out of here.”

Hux clenched tight with his hands and thighs, and Kylo took off, bounding up the tunnel for the exit. The entities behind them wailed and shrieked in protest, furious at being denied their prey.

Fresh night air wafted over Hux’s nose, and he felt his head clear, became aware of just how stifling and humid, how rank and putrid the air below had been. The light of the full moon was almost as bright as the sun on an overcast day, and for a moment, Hux was dazzled by the shift from utter darkness to such bright light. 

“Better?” Kylo asked, lowering himself again to let Hux slide from his back onto unsteady feet. 

Hux took a deep breath of cool night air that was only scented with magnolia and the general scent of trees. It was clean and cool, far less humid, and cleared his head. He nodded.

“Yes. Thank you for getting me the fuck out of there,” he said, turning to look Kylo in the face. 

Kylo stepped closer and brought his head down to Hux’s level, exhaling softly. His eyes weren’t lit, but Hux knew those empty sockets were looking right at him. Kylo had his ears pricked forward, and his tail twitched sporadically, as if trying not to wag it. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, bathed in the light of the full moon, and Hux reached up and put his hands on either side of Kylo’s snout, and pressed his forehead to the smooth, flat top of his muzzle. He closed his eyes, and practically hugged Kylo’s bleached white skull. 

Kylo let out a deep rumbling purr and inhaled Hux’s scent. This time, standing in his true form, his true size, outside at night, and in the full moon’s light, he could fully commit Hux’s scent to memory, engrave it in his brain, and with that, be able to find his bonded anywhere. 

And now that their blood was mingled, he could _follow_ him anywhere. 

“I misjudged you,” Hux said softly. “My whole family did. The book said a Hux must always be at Woodhaven to keep you in check, that if unchecked, you’d unleash famine and pestilence on the land, but that’s not it. We need to be here to help you find the means to close the breach. If there isn’t a Hux here to drive you, to help you, you can’t keep the wall up.”

He exhaled, his soft human breath so sweet, so delicious against Kylo’s snout, and Kylo ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, trying not to taste the air to have the flavour of Hux’s breath in his mouth. 

“I’ll help you,” Hux said softly. “I don’t know how I can, not yet, but I want to help you, because you help me.” 

“You’re part of me now,” Kylo replied. “As such, you are cherished, but you would matter to me, even if you weren’t part of me.” 

Hux pulled back a little, opening his eyes and looking Kylo in the face. 

“You are brave. Almost stupidly so,” Kylo continued. “Yet you are vulnerable, and you know this, and again, you are brave, because you choose to trust those who offer help and aid.”

“I need far too much help as of late,” Hux muttered, looking away, his cheeks burning with shame, and Kylo bumped him with his snout. Hux had to cling to the bony muzzle to keep from falling over. 

“Needing help is not weakness. Weakness is refusing to admit you cannot do something on your own, and refusing the strength offered by others who care to do so,” Kylo replied. 

“You are not weak, Sebastian. You are strong- and you are beautiful.” 

Hux flushed again, and pulled away from Kylo, heading for the stables. 

“I need to feed Milly,” he mumbled. 

Kylo slunk alongside him, shrinking his form and slowly turning human again. He followed Hux, watching silently as Hux groomed and fed Millicent, who looked disdainful of getting her dinner so late, but seemed willing to accept extra apples as tribute. 

Once she was settled for the night, Hux turned to Kylo. 

“I should go to bed...can we discuss… all of this tomorrow?” he asked, almost sounding uncertain, then turned to go. 

Kylo grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close, his chest pressing to Hux’s back. He slid his other hand over his shoulder, gripping it firmly. Hux looked at him over his shoulder, eyebrows lifting in surprise. 

“Kylo?”

“I was serious,” Kylo said, his eyes flashing black and red in the moonlight. 

“A-about what? We discussed a LOT this evening, you know,” Hux pointed out nervously. 

Kylo’s plush lips curved in a hungry smile, and his fangs glinted in the silvery light. He moved his hand from Hux’s waist to his chest, and with both hands, he curled his fingers in the cloth of Hux’s waistcoat and ripped it off, letting it fall to the grass. With another motion, and the sound of popping buttons, he’d ripped his shirt open. 

“About courting you, and making you mine for real, not just for convenience,” Kylo purred. 

He dragged his clawed fingers over Hux’s chest, down over his pectorals, and along the scars below them. He flicked a fingertip over one of Hux’s nipples, but there wasn’t much sensation in them, and wouldn’t be for a while. Hux didn’t mind- he appreciated the effort all the same. 

“I… So you… you were really aroused this morning, then?” he managed, but the growing erection in Kylo’s pants pressing against his ass answered that question. Kylo tilted his head.

“Yes, I would have thought that blatantly obvious,” he said quietly, dipping his head to run his tongue along the line of Hux’s throat, and then down and along his clavicle- his tongue was so long! 

“Do you want me, Sebastian?” Kylo asked seriously. “I want you- I want to mount you and make you mine, but I can’t, I won’t, unless you want me, and give me permission.” 

His claws were pricking the skin of Hux’s chest, beads of blood welling to the surface, and Hux let out a soft gasp as the cool night air interacted with the warm blood. 

He’d wanted Kylo this morning, there was no denying that. It had been years, more than a decade, really, since he’d had anyone touch him like this, since he’d had a lover, or known any sexual pleasure that wasn’t masturbation. He hadn’t felt safe with anyone, hadn’t felt that he could trust someone enough to be vulnerable with them and feel validated and safe all at once. 

Kylo was making him feel desirable, and his own state as not-quite-human, as a monster, as ‘other’ made him feel safe, equal. Kylo wasn’t like human men, because he wasn’t one, and that, ironically, made him safe. 

That thought made his former concerns fly away like petals on a breeze. Why should he feel guilt or conflict about letting Kylo have his way with him because he wasn’t human? By society’s standards, Hux wasn’t human, either. They were both outcasts, both were ‘other,’ and were mature, consenting beings. 

_Fuck it, I wanna fuck him. I want this gorgeous creature to make me his, and make him mine._

“You want to court me, Kylo?” he whispered, his voice thick in his throat. “Then fuck me until I scream to rival the monsters below the slaughterhouse.”

Kylo raked his claws over Hux’s chest, leaving deep gashes in his skin, and to Hux’s amazement and delight, it didn’t hurt- not in the way it should. It was a deep, throbbing burn that was similar to a good hard bruise, or the pleasant burn of a razor blade. Either way, it sent a shudder through him. 

“Fuck.”

“Indeed,” Kylo growled, and pushed Hux to the ground. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**

  
  


Claws ripped at his clothing, and in mere moments, Hux was naked in the grass on his hands and knees, his ass in the air. Kylo was bending over him, his own clothes gone, smoke whirling about him, his arms and legs black to the elbow and knee. His feet looked more like cloven hooves, and the black fur on his stomach and his hips was longer and thicker than it had been that morning, but Hux found he didn’t mind.

His eyes were drawn to Kylo’s cock, standing erect in the nest of black fur, and he felt his cunt gape, grow wet with desire at the sight of it. It was mostly human, and mostly of average length, and uncut, but with a thick shaft rippled with ridges and an even thicker base. The head was thick, poking out from the foreskin, precome glittering on the slit in the moonlight. His balls were hidden in the thick fur around his groin, but when Kylo leaned forward to rub his cock against Hux’s hungry wet cunt, Hux could feel them swing forward against him, heavy and swollen.

“Fuck, that’s a thick cock,” Hux moaned, arching his back to push his hips at Kylo, a physical form of begging to be fucked. 

He’d imagined this happening in his bed, not outside in the moonlight, and certainly not in the grass of his yard. He felt deliciously exposed and wanton, utterly depraved and wild, his ass up, wet cunt exposed to the cool night air as he presented himself like a bitch in heat, desperate to be mounted.. 

He found he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that he had no neighbours to see this display. 

Kylo leaned over him, thick cock throbbing against his crotch as he bit Hux’s ear. 

“Tell me you want it,” he growled, rubbing, teasing the shaft against his folds, and the swollen head rubbed against Hux’s swollen cock that jutted from the folds, pulsing and throbbing with need. Hux moaned low and long, squirming under Kylo. 

What had him wanting Kylo this badly? How had it taken literally seconds to be so aroused that he felt his own slick running down his inner thigh, dripping from his folds? 

“You’re aroused, which makes me aroused, which only feeds back to you,” Kylo said softly, as if reading his thoughts. “Tell me you want me, that you want my cock, Sebastian.”

“For _fuck’s sake,_ Kylo, can’t you _tell_ I want you?” Hux all but wailed, fingers and toes curling in the grass as he shoved his ass at Kylo’s groin. 

“Tell me you want me, Sebastian. I have to hear it, or I can’t fuck you.”

“I fucking want you to take your cock and shove it in my cunt, Kylo, you daft hellhound! Put your cock in my cunt and fuck me until I can’t walk,” Hux snarled. 

Kylo went serious, the grin fading from his face. 

“Thank you,” he rumbled, and with a single movement, mounted Hux, shoving his cock into his cunt to the hilt. 

He leaned over Hux, his back curving, hips moving forward, and he began to thrust, to pound in earnest, hips jack-hammering at Hux’s as he rutted on him very much like the hellhound he was. He panted, licking the back of Hux’s neck, his ear, his arms wrapped around his midsection as he fucked him. 

Hux let out a sharp cry that was almost a howl as Kylo filled, stretched and pounded into his cunt. There was a few moments of discomfort as his body accomodated, then acclimated to his girth, and another few more moments of pain as Kylo learned the limits of Hux’s body- his swollen head shoved against his cervix too hard, and that nearly killed Hux’s arousal, but Kylo immediately pulled back, withdrawing his cock.

Hux panted, his ass still in the air, exposing his gaping cunt as he made desperate sounds of protest at Kylo’s withdrawal. 

“Why did you stop?” he gasped.

“I hurt you.”

“Only momentarily, I’m okay, now put that fucking cock back in me, damnit. I don’t mind a bit of cervix nudging, it’s going to happen in this position just remember not to try to shove it up into me, okay?”

Kylo nodded, his cock twitching, missing the soft wet heat of Hux’s cunt. 

“Now mount me, you naughty hellpup.” 

Kylo growled and mounted him again, this time, mindful of the angle, and used a hand to work fingers over Hux’s own cock. His fingers pulled, rubbed and tugged at Hux’s cock, thumb rubbing the head, and Hux broke out into a fresh chorus of cries and moans.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he groaned. “What a good boy, Kylo, so good, ah, your cock is so good, so thick!”

“Just you wait,” Kylo growled, rutting on Hux faster, harder, his balls slapping his crotch. 

Hux was so soft, so wet, and he squeezed his cock, so tight and insistent. His cries and groans were music to his ears, and the earthy, tangy musk of their sex was so delicious that Kylo drooled freely onto Hux’s back. 

He felt his muzzle elongating, the curve of his spine, the set of his joints and the positioning of his ribs all changing, and he couldn’t stop them. 

Sex was new to Kylo. He’d seen the wolves of his first family mate, and he’d understood the purpose- to make new pups so the pack could grow, continue the species. He understood that males competed for fertile females, that the strongest, most adaptive, most clever would end up fathering the most litters. He himself, as a spirit with a physical form, that lived forever, had no need to procreate, and he didn’t feel the need, the urge to mate. 

When he’d first encountered humans, he’d learned they mated for pleasure, which he didn’t understand. What was the point of mating if offspring weren’t the desired result? Wouldn’t that make mating pointless and draining? 

Even in more modern times, after being bonded to families for protection and vengeance both, he’d learned that sex felt good to humans, and helped them bond on a mental and emotional level, as well as physical. Even then, he still didn’t understand. 

But that first night that he’d felt arousal as a result of Hux’s own confused arousal as they snuggled on the couch- which, Kylo admitted, had been very enjoyable- had confused him. Arousal was confusing- he could not impregnate Hux, they weren’t the same species, so why did he desire to mate with him? True, from what Kylo could smell of him, Hux could physically have children, but not with him. Kylo could spill all the seed he wanted into Hux’s womb, but a hellhound could not breed with a human. 

But this need, it was persistent, and alarming with how much it took place of all other needs. It clouded his thoughts and made him think of nothing else but mounting Hux and rutting on him, of achieving the end goal of orgasm, and filling Hux with his seed.

The end goal of making him his own, his mate. 

Those pervasive, persistent thoughts were taking over, and in that haze of lust, he was losing control of his form. It took effort, took concentration to keep his human form- it was like holding his stomach muscles tight- and he couldn’t hold his muscles tight while mating with his human. 

He was slipping back into his hellhound form. 

Hux was aware something was happening when the fur on Kylo’s stomach started to spread up across his chest, when the hands on his stomach became paws, when the thighs pressed against his became curved and started to cradle his hips instead of rock against them, when he felt the blunt, thick head of Kylo’s cock start to have a little more poke against his cervix. 

He knew something _had_ happened when bony jaws closed around his throat and stopped short of fangs breaking skin, holding his neck as carefully as one would an egg. He knew they’d gone just shy of the point of no return when Kylo’s tail wrapped around his lower thighs near his knees, and the grunts coming from Kylo’s lips were now guttural snarls from a bleached skull. 

And yet, this didn’t scare or disturb Hux in any way. In fact, it only aroused him more as Kylo continued pounding his cock into him with a cock that was completely inhuman. A cock with a thick base that was getting thicker- swelling, and swelling fast. It stretched his cunt with a stinging pain that was almost too much to bear, but was thrilling and delicious at the same time because he knew what that was. 

_Oh hell, that’s a knot. He’s gone full hellhound because he’s enjoying this so much, he’s lost control and he’s going to knot me._

Hux found he didn’t mind this in the least- and it actually turned him on so much, felt so good, the first of his orgasms rippled through him, his cunt convulsing around Kylo’s cock. He was already _so full_ from the knot, that when his cunt clamped tighter around it, he saw stars, his pleasure mounted, and he came a second time- and _screamed._

He knew he was about to be in a very odd predicament as Kylo howled in his ear, his belly tightened against Hux’s back, and he thrust to the hilt. Hux winced and cried out as the blunt pointed tip of Kylo’s cock pressed hard against his cervix, twitched, then throbbed almost painfully inside him. Hux could _feel_ the cold semen shoot from Kylo’s cock inside him- into his womb? His cunt? He wasn’t sure, he couldn’t pinpoint where it’d gone, he just knew that Kylo had shot at least a cup of seed into him- and it wasn’t leaking out because Kylo had him firmly, almost painfully knotted. 

Kylo, spent, leaned heavily on Hux for a moment, releasing his hold on Hux’s throat- and not a single fang left more than a gentle indentation in his pale skin. He panted, tongue lolling out, his limbs trembling. He licked Hux’s neck, felt his limbs shaking under his weight, and grunted softly. 

“I’m heavy, I’m sorry, but I can’t pull out. Can you roll over?” he asked. 

Hux furrowed his brow, considered, then nodded. He twisted, rolling onto his back as best he could with Kylo’s cock still buried inside him, the knot throbbing painfully inside his overstimulated cunt as he rotated on it. Kylo lowered his body with his movements, working to help him roll over. 

Once Hux was on his back, Kylo did his best with his canine front legs to slide them under Hux’s back, and then rolled over onto his own, Hux lying on top of him. Kylo sprawled on his back, legs akimbo, still tied with Hux, who trembled. 

“Are you okay?” Kylo asked. 

Hux was quiet for a long moment. He was still trembling, he was covered in grass, dirt and sweat, had a hellhound knotted deep inside him, and a womb full of his seed. He had thick fur rubbing against his chest, stomach and cock most deliciously, and Kylo had large protective forepaws resting on his back as he held him close. Kylo’s large soft, furry balls were squashed under his ass, and his face was pressed into Kylo’s incredibly soft furry ruff, the cool bony muzzle resting on top of his head affectionately, possessively. 

“Lost control?” he finally managed. 

“A little,” Kylo admitted. His cock twitched inside Hux, who laughed shakily.

“That’s not a little, Kylo. You went full hellhound on my cunt.”

“Did I hurt you?” Kylo asked, concerned. Hux reached up and stroked Kylo’s fur where it was softest- just below the underside of his jaw. 

“A little, but in a very good, very exciting way. As you can probably guess… I’ve never been knotted.”

“I would hope not, or there are other hellhounds for me to fight,” Kylo growled. 

“Or I broke laws in many- but sadly not all- states. Thankfully for us both, neither is the case,” Hux said dryly, relaxing on top of Kylo, feeling the knot tug at him. 

“So now what do we do?” he asked. “How long are we tied like this?”

Kylo tilted his head, and Hux had to move his own head to avoid being knocked by an antler. 

“An hour? Maybe two? I… can’t say for sure,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve never done this before. When the wolves in my pack mated, they were tied for half an hour to a full hour. I’m guessing it might take me longer?”

Hux sighed, and shivered a bit. With the post-sex crash, there was a chill and fatigue rushing over him. 

“I’m stuck with you, then. We are NOT trying to fit through my door or go up stairs like this. Guess I can… try to take a nap until it goes down,” he said with a shrug. 

The idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant if it meant he could snuggle into Kylo’s thick musky fur. 

“You’re shivering,” Kylo commented, and draped his long tail over Hux as best he could. Hux sighed- his tail was very thick and fluffy, with long fur, and it was very warm. He snuggled into the thick fur of his stomach and chest, and gave a little moan as the knot tugged at him when he moved. 

“Oh that’s not good, that’s gonna rile me up again,” he complained without conviction. 

Kylo whimpered- the motion had caused him discomfort, his cock overstimulated and swollen, and Hux’s cunt was very tight. Yet, that was arousing to Hux. That made him feel better- clearly his human liked it thick. 

“Take a nap,” Kylo purred. “Nothing will happen to you with me.”

Hux yawned, and nestled close, and before Kylo could say anything more, he was fast asleep. Kylo churred softly, licked Hux’s cheek, and rested his head in the grass, letting himself fall into a very light, watchful doze. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


Hux woke to find Kylo shifting beneath him in human form. His broad chest was warm against his cheek, and his arms were wrapped around him. Hux shifted experimentally and found that their precarious predicament had passed. Kylo smiled dreamily at him. 

“Hi.”

Reminded of that morning, Hux smiled back, flushing.

“Hi.”

Kylo lifted his head and kissed him, tongue flicking over his lips, and Hux opened his mouth to let him in. Kylo ran his tongue over Hux’s along his teeth, caressing, gentle, tasting, before pulling it back and broke the kiss. 

“Mine,” he growled softly, deep in his chest, and Hux turned bright red.

“Yours?”

Kylo nodded, smug, and tightened his embrace. 

“Mine. My human.”

“Could be worse things, I suppose,” Hux teased, and bumped Kylo’s nose with his own. 

Somehow, this felt good, felt right, like this was exactly where he was supposed to be, _how_ he was supposed to be. Many times, he’d questioned his transition, questioned his identity, how it factored into his life, affected those around him, how it affected his future. He’d wondered if anyone would be satisfied, happy with him just as he was now, happy in his own skin. 

Kylo didn’t seem to care. Hux was his, and he was Hux’s. He was happy lying there in the moonlit yard, sprawled in the grass butt-ass naked with Hux tangled in his arms, as he was. He protected him and called him his. 

Things hadn’t been perfect since he’d come home and found this mess of a business with a curse, a hole leading into the underworld, and a monster waiting to become part of his life, but things were different, had changed- and for the better.

There was a curse, yeah, but it wasn’t something he’d be facing alone, and there was no monster that he could see, not anymore. 

He had a very enthusiastic, very affectionate and slightly feral hellpuppy that needed a bit of housebreaking, but with patience, empathy and a lot of love, he’d tame him into something more. 

Kylo kissed his throat and helped him to his feet. They headed inside together, laughing as they both stumbled, legs weak, and when Hux stumbled a second time, Kylo scooped him up, and carried him across the threshold. Hux flushed- Kylo had seen more than a few generations of Hux couples do this very thing, so there was no mistaking the significance of the gesture. 

“We’re covered in dirt and grass, and I know you don’t want that in our bed,” Kylo teased, grinning. 

“Show me how the bathtub works, so we can bathe each other, then go to bed properly.”

Hux nodded, and Kylo covered his mouth with his own as the door shut behind them.

“Our bed?” he asked.

“Our bed,” Kylo repeated, still grinning, fangs glittering. 

Their bath was quick- Kylo found he did NOT like soap, and when they were out of the tub, he only made Hux frustrated by immediately doing a full body shake that splattered water all over the bathroom. 

They curled under the blankets together, nude, and Kylo spooned Hux, pulling him close. Hux yawned and nestled against him with a soft murmur. 

“This honestly would have been an awful day,” Hux said between yawns. “Police, a bar confrontation, a trip into hell and seeing all that gore… but you made it all worth it, Kylo.”

Kylo nipped at the back of Hux’s neck, purring softly in satisfaction- the slight indentations of his fangs were still there in the skin of either side of his throat. 

“Anything for you,” he churred. “I will fight hell, fight humans, fight the very stars, if it means protecting you.”

Hux closed his eyes with a happy sigh, and Kylo smiled against his throat. 

“Anything for my mate.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely picture of Kylo and Hux right before they finally say fuck it and fuck each other was done by the EVER so talented confusedlucifer ♥ https://confusedlucifer.tumblr.com/


	12. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Hux come clean about the nature of their relationship and the true nature of Kylo's presence in the world of the living. Kylo accidentally reveals some truths he left unsaid, and Hux has to come to terms with those ugly truths.

The sun rose on a quiet house on the Woodhaven property. Just outside the boundaries, mockingbirds trilled and warbled, a blessedly cool breeze that heralded the coming of autumn rustled the trees, and only wispy cirrus drifted high in the blue sky. Inside the house, Hux was curled up against Kylo, the blackout curtains casting most of the room in a warm darkness made all the warmer by the closeness of the hellhound wearing a man’s skin. His back was pressed against Kylo’s broad chest, and Kylo’s heavy arm was draped over his waist. 

Kylo was very still, his chest only rising and falling in response to the movement of Hux’s ribcage expanding and contracting with each breath. His body curved to embrace his lover’s, and he shifted when Hux did, but had Hux not been beside him, he’d have been as still as one long dead.

As the sun rose, the angle of its burning rays hit the windows, beams falling between the curtains and spilling their light over Hux’s face. Hux squinted, made a face in his sleep, stirred with a soft moan, rolling onto his side- and smacked his bedmate in the face. Kylo grunted and rolled over as well, right on top of Hux, who let out a wheezing sound as the air was pushed out of his lungs under Kylo’s muscular bulk. He flailed helplessly, trapped under Kylo's weight. 

He was wide awake now.

“Kylo, please… Can’t… breathe,” he wheezed. 

Kylo made a purring rumble in his chest and rolled slightly to the side, but was still mostly on top of him. He nuzzled into Hux’s neck, churring like a thing possessed. Hux sighed, able to breathe again as he wrapped his arms around Kylo’s broad chest and pressed his face into his stupidly pretty, pretty hair. 

“Morning,” Kylo rumbled into Hux’s neck. 

“Morning, you big heavy oaf,” Hux replied, a bit giddy as the events of the previous night replayed in his head. A flush crawled across his cheeks and crept down his neck as the hellhound-turned-man nipped and licked at his neck. 

“Mmm, and you are comfy and warm,” Kylo replied, voice thick with contentment and the dregs of sleep. 

The last thing Kylo said before Hux had fallen asleep came back to him, and his face burned bright red. Feeling the heat of Hux’s face against him, Kylo rolled over to look at him, lifting his brows. 

“What is it?” he asked.

“What you said, last night,” Hux replied. “You called me your mate.”

“And?” Kylo was nonplussed. 

“I don’t know what that entails. I know last night I said I’d like if you courted me, but what does it mean when you call me your mate?” he asked, flustered. "We kind of skipped the dating phase, didn't we?"

“It means you’re mine,” Kylo said, his tone that of someone explaining something obvious. “That I will protect you, defend you, care for you… love you. I see no point in human dating, we have eternity to do 'dates.'” 

“You wanted to eat me just a few weeks ago,” Hux pointed out; it was a repeated argument, and his tone carried no conviction. “I know that having Benson’s blood in my veins, and having our blood melded has tempered that urge, and I know we fucked, but is that really enough to constitute love?”

Kylo blinked amber eyes at him slowly, considering as he tilted his head. 

“I cannot help but care for you, protect you. It means love is more likely to happen, and I would not be adverse to it- I’d welcome it, as you’re mine.” 

Hux had no answer for that aside from a brighter flushing of his cheeks, and Kylo grinned, his fangs flashing. Hux grabbed a pillow and pushed it over Kylo’s face. 

“Stop that, you smug asshole,” he groused, though his tone was still flustered. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. His stomach growled, and he felt the nagging for a cigarette and coffee. Kylo pulled the pillow from his face and tilted his head. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, clearly confused- why would Hux be leaving the delicious warm comfort of the bed, especially with him right there?

“Hungry. Time for breakfast. You can lounge about if you want,” Hux said, getting to his feet and padding across the floor to his wardrobe, pulling out his black bathrobe. He glanced at Kylo over his shoulder as he shrugged into the robe, the soft plush fabric pleasant on his skin- it was cold outside the warm nest of blankets he’d been in with Kylo. Kylo returned his gaze sleepily, his plush lips pursed in a pout. 

“Don’t you have work today?” he asked. Hux shrugged. 

“I’ll go in if needed. Yesterday was… an ordeal, and I don’t have any consultations scheduled, or paperwork to do. Phasma will call me if that changes. For now, I want coffee, a cigarette, and breakfast, in that order.”

"How about some sausage?" Kylo leered at him- and received a flipped middle finger with no vitriol attached as Hux headed downstairs.

Hux saw that as he left the room, Kylo snuggled into the space he’d previously occupied, burying his face into the blankets and inhaling deeply. A twinge of something that felt like adoration stabbed through his chest, and he smiled to himself. He wasted no time in setting up the coffee maker, and waited impatiently for the drip to produce enough for his first cup- which he prepped immediately with a spattering of sugar, no cream. He took his mildly sweetened coffee onto the porch and sat on the wicker couch, lighting a cigarette. 

The property had a dense fog clinging to it, the thick mist weaving through the trees and around the yard. Hux made a gentle clicking sound with his tongue between his teeth, smoke spilling from his mouth, and Millicent stuck her head out of her stable door. She whickered softly, ears pricked forward, then disappeared again- likely back to munching hay and sulking that she hadn’t been let out into the paddock yet. The morning was balmy- almost chilly- with the slowly oncoming autumn, and with the hot smoke in his lungs, cool fog on his skin, and hot coffee in his throat, he felt very good. It was a good morning. He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out, and headed back inside with his nearly empty mug, ready to make breakfast. 

Breakfast was fried over-easy eggs, toast, and bacon- lots of bacon. He made twice what he thought he was capable of eating, as well as extra eggs. He had the feeling Kylo might be hungry, too. The sound of bare feet on the stairs confirmed his suspicion- Kylo came into the kitchen, sniffing the air. He wore boxer briefs and nothing else, his hair a mess, and his expression was hopeful, hungry. Hux gave him an appreciative look as he flipped the last of the bacon onto a plate covered with a paper towel to sop up the grease. 

“Smelled the bacon, huh?”

“Mmm,” Kylo replied, snagging a piece and crunching it between sharp teeth with a sound of enjoyment as he sat at the table, where Hux was arranging the plates of bacon, eggs and toast. 

“Coffee, milk, or orange j-?”

“Milk- leave the jug on the table,” Kylo replied before Hux could even finish as he sat down, helping himself to a generous helping of bacon and eggs. Hux snorted affectionately and poured Kylo a glass of milk before sitting down with a fresh mug of coffee, getting his own helping of breakfast. 

“Thank you,” Kylo said, reaching for the glass and downing it in a few long swallows, then poured another. Hux paused, fork halfway to his mouth as he watched. 

“You like milk, huh?” he asked.

“Always have. Especially when it’s ice cold, or fresh from the cow,” Kylo replied with a nod, shoving an entire fried egg in his mouth. Yolk seeped from the corner of his mouth, and Hux reached over to wipe at his mouth with a napkin- just as Kylo licked at it with his tongue, licking Hux’s fingers instead. 

“You do that on purpose,” Hux said, not nearly as embarrassed this time, lifting his brows suggestively. Kylo only grinned and chomped down on a piece of bacon- he had declined the toast, so Hux was dipping a piece in the runny yolk of his egg. 

“Maybe. You taste better than eggs.”

“You haven’t tasted all of me,” Hux said before he could stop himself, and Kylo lifted a brow. 

“I intend to. There’s an entire buffet sitting across from me and I plan on trying every bit of it,” he purred.

Hux hid his face by taking a long sip of his coffee, and clenched his thighs together under the table to squash the throbbing between his legs. Hux had made up his mind on something they needed to do today, and it would be rude to do it after noon, because it implied a self-invitation to dinner. 

“Not this morning… maybe this evening, depending on how good you are today,” Hux said, setting down his mug and watching Kylo down another half glass of milk. His plate was empty, only a smear of yolk and bacon grease any indication that there had been food on it- and even that was gone as Kylo picked it up and licked it clean. 

“Should… should I make you more?” Hux asked. He’d had more than enough himself, but had only eaten a third of what he’d cooked- Kylo had devoured the rest. Kylo polished off his milk and licked his chops.

“Not unless you want me to eat you out of house and home. I am a bottomless pit- I’ll eat what you feed me, but I will never not be hungry unless I eat human flesh, Hux,” Kylo replied. 

“So there’s no point in feeding you human food?” Hux asked, slightly irritated that Kylo hadn’t told him this until after he’d eaten nearly a pound of bacon and half a dozen eggs. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t greatly enjoy it- human food is delicious. I definitely appreciate the taste, texture, scent. It’s a treat,” Kylo said, lowering his head a bit, sensing Hux’s irritation, which had Hux softening. 

“Well as long as you enjoy it, and it isn’t a waste, then I have no issue with someone else appreciating my cooking,” he said, mollified- after all, one thing a Southerner never lost was their method of showing affection by cooking for loved ones, even if their loved ones were immortal hellhounds.

“….what did you mean by ‘how good you are today’?” Kylo asked, narrowing his eyes. “What are you planning?”

Hux got up, gathering their plates and putting them in the dishwasher. He put the milk away, and poured another mug of coffee. He leaned against the counter, drinking this last mug black and unsweetened. He looked at Kylo over the rim of his mug, considering how to word his request.

“I think we need to tell Maz about what’s under the slaughterhouse.”

* * *

As he expected, Kylo had raised a stink- and turned into a large ball of bristling fur, almost too quickly for Hux to shove him outside before he was too big to fit in the kitchen. Once outside, he exploded into a ball of fur, bones and hooves, and tore off into the slaughterhouse, disappearing into the lair he’d crafted deep between worlds. 

Hux had sighed and gotten dressed, then let Millicent out into her paddock- after placating her with extra apples as an apology for the lateness of her release. He rubbed her soft velvety nose as she crunched on the peace offering, and promised her extra oats and a peppermint oat cake- the cake made of oats, molasses, chopped apple, and topped with a peppermint were her favourite, and she’d tear clear across three acres for one if she knew one was being offered. They were high value treats, and Hux only used them to bribe her into behaving, or as a means of apologising when she was cooped up for long, or had to see the vet. 

By the time Hux had let Milly loose into the paddock, watching her trot off to her favourite grazing spot, tail held high and fluttering like a banner, Kylo had skulked out of the slaughterhouse in his Shuck form, ears lowered and tail tucked between his hind legs. He sat beside Hux and leaned against his thigh with a low whine. Hux rubbed behind his ears and over the back of his head reassuringly. 

“Sorry,” Kylo mumbled, closing his eyes as Hux pet him. “Maz and her family… we don’t get along. Her land hurts my feet.”

“She doesn’t know what you’re really doing here. I’m hoping if you’re invited in and you promise to behave, you’ll be okay, and we can ask Maz if she knows how to help you close the breach,” Hux replied soothingly. “It doesn’t hurt to ask for help.” 

“I suppose not,” Kylo agreed reluctantly. “None of your family ever realised the true scope of what was at stake, and I’ve been doing this on my own for so long, that I’ve accepted my solitary guard post as my own burden to bear.”

“Why are you a dog, Kylo?”

“Because I was bad. I feel like I need to earn the right to be human when I’m with you.” 

Hux squatted, bringing his face to eye level with Kylo, and his kissed his muzzle. 

“You have been alone for a long time, Kylo, and you want to be with me- it’d be easier for me if you were human when we’re in public. It helps with keeping up stories and alibis. That and… I’d feel safer if you were human with me when I go into town,” he said softly. 

Kylo tilted his head, then nodded solemnly- a very odd thing to see a dog do. His fur began to smoke, and moments later, Kylo was helping Hux straighten up, his large hands engulfing Hux’s. Hux opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Kylo crushing his lips over his. Hux sighed, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on Kylo’s hands as he opened his mouth to let Kylo’s cool, soft wet tongue in. Kylo kissed Hux for a silent minute, then broke away- only to press his forehead to Hux’s, bumping his nose against his, and Hux felt his heart skip, his stomach flutter at the soft gesture, the tenderness of being nuzzled in such a way. It was a second, silent apology, a silent declaration, and it gave him a thrill of adoration- the same sharp stab he'd felt when he saw Kylo nuzzling into his blankets. 

“Ready to go?” he managed, his throat tight with affection that overwhelmed him. Kylo nodded and followed Hux to the Rolls. Hux swallowed hard, his throat still tight and dry. 

How had this creature gone from scaring the piss out of him, to making his heart swell with affection?

* * *

Maz leaned to the side to look around Hux, squinting at the tall raven-haired man shuffling his feet at the end of her driveway. She looked back at Hux, eyes still narrowed, and Hux felt very small, despite the fact that he was a full foot taller than her. She looked between them a few more times, dreadlocks falling over her shoulders as she tilted her head each time to look up at Hux. 

“Fine,” she said finally. “But he shows a single fang, a single claw, and he’ll get silver shoved so far up his ass he’ll be shitting bullets for a century.” 

Hux bit back a smile and a bark of laughter, then turned to beckon to Kylo. 

“You heard the lady, Kylo.”

Kylo edged to the ward line, then carefully tested it with the toe of his leather boot. When he didn’t instantly smoke, sizzle and burn, he took a tentative step, then another- and froze, tensing, waiting for the pain, the magical whiplash. Maz chuckled softly, and Hux waited patiently. Inside, Emmie let out a scream and a string of swears- and a man laughed. Hux froze.

“You didn’t tell me you had guests, Maz,” he said worriedly. Maz patted his arm reassuringly with a warm palm calloused from years of gardening and art.

“I do, but you need to be formally introduced to them, anyway- and you need to thank them for the railroad spikes- so your visit was perfectly timed,” she replied brightly. “Now get in here, I have tea and gingersnaps.”

Hux waited for Kylo, slipping his hand into his before leading him inside, following Maz. 

“We have extra guests,” Maz announced. “I invited them in, so be nice- I’ll be right back with glasses.”

Maz left the room, and Hux found himself looking at a pair of older gentleman sitting on the leather couch. Both had tanned skin- one had bright emerald green eyes with long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and a well groomed goatee; the other was clean shaven, with mahogany eyes and thick, impeccably straight black hair slicked back, falling just to his earlobes and tapering to a point at the back of his neck. 

“So you’re the prodigal son,” the man with the goatee said. He had thick, beautifully groomed brows, a lean face with a smooth jawline, and a gold hoop glittered in his right earlobe. He had a mild, but unmistakable Appalachian accent- it was softened, likely by years of living in Alabama. 

“I… yes, I’m Sebastian Hux,” Hux replied, shaking the man’s hand when he offered it to shake. The man nodded. 

“Jorj Car’das. This here’s my husband, Mithra,” Jorj said by way of introduction, and Hux shook Mithra’s hand- Mithra was looking at Kylo, even as he shook Hux’s hand. 

“And this must be the Grump,” Mithra said. His voice was smooth, cultured and coolly modulated- there was a hint of an accent, but Hux couldn’t place what it might have been. His tanned skin and black hair, his stunning cheekbones and hooded eyes spoke of a Middle Eastern origin, but his accent did not immediately make him think of any specific country. 

Kylo scowled.

“My name is Kylo.”

“Or so you would have us call you because you hate Grump, and we can’t say your true name,” Maz said brightly, bringing in two glasses and a fresh plate of gingersnaps on a tray- and Emmie sitting on her head. Maz set the tray on the table and gestured at the other couch, Emmie flaring her wings as she fought to maintain her balance. 

“Sit. Have some tea- it’s chai with anise, cinnamon and nutmeg. Iced, because it’s still as hot as Satan’s armpit out there,” she said, pouring tea into their glasses before sitting back in her eggshell chair, Emmie climbing on top of it. 

Hux sat on the couch and took a glass, Kylo settling in beside him. With no sense of propriety, and not knowing that Hux wanted to break this to Maz delicately- and after Jorj and Mithra were gone- he leaned against Hux after taking his own glass of tea and a gingersnap. Maz blinked owlishly, eyes wide and brows lifted, and Jorj looked taken aback. Only Mithra didn’t react, keeping his opinion to himself- Hux noticed the man had a face that was impossible to read, and he likely kept it that way. 

“So… looks like you came to an arrangement, then,” Maz commented. 

Despite his best efforts, Hux flushed from the base of his throat to the roots of his hair, and choked on his tea. Kylo put a hand to his back, pushing him forward and thumping him firmly between the shoulder blades until Hux stopped coughing. He gasped, eyes watering as his lungs fought to clear the tea from his windpipe, and he tried to ignore how Kylo had started rubbing small circles between his shoulders, soothing the sting from where he’d thumped him. 

“Wrong pipe,” he wheezed. 

“I showed him the real reason I now make arrangements with his bloodline, and he thought it best we share that reason with you,” Kylo said calmly, either missing the innuendo, ignoring it entirely, or he was aware of it and didn’t care because he had no reason to be ashamed of it. Hux was willing to bet it was the latter. 

“What reason?” Jorj asked quietly. “You’re a curse, aren’t you?”

“To tell you what I am and why I am here would take far longer than any of us have time for, but Sebastian is welcome to tell you at his convenience,” Kylo said dismissively. “Short of it is, yes, originally, I was a curse on the Hux bloodline, but the creation of myself as a curse had disastrous consequences, and now it’s an arrangement of blood and flesh to protect your region from the mistake of the one who bound me to the Hux line.”

“Curses are usually a mistake,” Maz agreed. “They have consequences, and not always on the one who casts them, but Mary Benson has been dead for over three centuries, Kylo. What do you mean, ‘protect the region’?”

“I was a benign spirit inherited by generations of the Benson family and its ancestors, but when I was called to curse and torment the Hux line, I was twisted and pulled from the other world as a demon, a monster- and in doing so, a hole was ripped in the veil between this world and the next, right on the spot where I was summoned,” Kylo said. “That spot was where Benson was hung, and where the slaughterhouse now sits.”

The room was quiet- even Emmie was uncharacteristically silent, her crest flared as she picked up on the tension in the room. 

“You mean to tell me there’s been a hole to hell under the dairy for centuries?” Maz asked quietly. Kylo nodded, and Maz stood up in a single, quick movement, closed the distance, and smacked Kylo on the forehead with the back of her hand.

“And you didn’t think maybe that was something you should’ve told someone?!” she scolded. 

“Your very property burns me, and you tried to set me on fire- and those two aim silver-loaded pistols at me whenever I come close, when would I have had the chance?” Kylo growled, his teeth turning to fangs, his voice low and guttural, his hair becoming smoky. 

Hux placed his hand on the side of Kylo’s face, stroking fingertips over his cheekbone. 

“Kylo. Shh. Be good,” he murmured. Kylo’s hackles went down, and he calmed almost immediately. Jorj and Mithra exchanged looks that no one missed. 

“You really tamed him, didn’t you?” Jorj commented, and Kylo sulked. 

“I’m not tamed. We’re bonded. Large difference.”

All three looked at Kylo and Hux, and Emmie made a squawk into the resulting silence that sounded too much like ‘WHAT?!’. Hux sighed. 

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, honey, we have time, so you’d best get to talking, because I have the feeling it has to do with the literal hole to Hell that’s under your property,” Maz said crisply, all business as she sat forward in her chair- and put her cast iron skillet back on the floor by her feet. 

Kylo squeezed Hux’s hand, and Hux began to tell the story- how Kylo had terrorised him, tried to eat him. Kylo helpfully put in that he had wanted to, yet found he was unable to actually cause any physical damage. Hux recounted the diary- though he didn’t mention the unsavoury, unethical barbarism his forefathers had committed. Sensing Hux’s shame, Kylo didn’t mention them, either. It wasn’t until Hux spoke of his mother being an unknown surrogate, and Kylo chiming in that Rey had the same blood, did Maz interject for the first time.

“Wait. So Maratelle isn’t your mother?” Maz asked in disbelief. “I didn’t know she was infertile, or that you were born from a surrogate!”

“Thought you knew everything about everyone, Maz,” Jorj quipped playfully, ducking with a chuckle as Maz threw a gingersnap at him- which Mithra caught easily. 

“Apparently not, but I’m wondering how Rey has the same blood, when she isn’t from the area,” Maz mused, stroking her chin in thought. “She’s from across the bay, if I remember correctly, but I’m wondering what happened to her mother and her family- Rey’s an orphan.”

“Are they directly related, or distantly?” Mithra asked, aiming his gaze at Kylo. 

“Directly,” Kylo said. “Blood has currents of scent, two bloodlines of intertwining currents rushing through veins. Sebastian has his father’s, the Hux line, and his mother’s, the Benson line. Rey has her father’s, and her mother’s, which is Benson blood from the same mother.”

“….Rey is my half sister?” Hux asked, eyes wide. “You didn’t think that was important, Kylo?”

Kylo shrugged, looking a bit reproachful. 

“At the time, I was more concerned with your well being, and it escaped my mind.”

“So your mother is a surrogate for the Hux line, has you. Sixteen years later, she has another child, and disappears, leaving her four year old daughter an orphan. It’s not a coincidence she was a Benson. So what happened to her?” Maz wondered out loud. 

Jorj was quiet a moment, and his husband was looking at him patiently, expectantly. Finally, Jorj cleared his throat.

“Twenty years ago… that was 2000, 2001- that was when the Threkelds came to town, Maz. Remember?” he finally said. 

Maz went quiet, and Kylo bristled. Mithra was drawn, solemn, and Hux blinked, looking between the four of them. 

“Who are the Threkelds?” he asked. 

“Cult from North Carolina,” Jorj said. “Back from where I hail from. A holler betwixt Canton n’ Asheville. Small, out of the way. Didn’t even have a name, really, because only the Threkelds lived there.”

“An… Appalachian cult?” Hux asked, dumbfounded. “What do they have to do with the Bensons?”

“They don’t consider themselves a cult. They’re a family of folk remedies and good faith,” Jorj replied. “They only let in family, only trust family, and they don’t like outsiders. Problem is, their family was wanin’ on the ability to draw from the land, so they started kidnappin’ kids who showed potential in the gift.” 

Mithra covered Jorj’s hand with his own and squeezed it, gently. 

“I was a foster kid myself, and they took me in, but I was taught to do awful things, because they saw I had the gift. They wanted me to help them try to tap the powers of the next world so they could continue their work- which was calling on a dark entity I can’t name- even if I wanted to. They called it Hundred Head. It walks the veil in a shape with a hundred head and limb attached to one body, yet a hundred body at the same time. It’s a predator, but prey, and it remembers every red deed done in the woods of this world and the next- and they worshipped it. Wanted to bring it into this world.” 

Jorj shuddered, and Hux felt his stomach lurch- he knew exactly what Jorj was talking about. He’d seen it, and had no desire to see it again. 

“I ran away when I was thirteen, and made my way down here. They tried lookin’ for me for a while, but since I was in the protective care of another state, they couldn’t claim me as a foster again- especially since I had evidence of abuse.” 

“The Threkelds came down here in 2000, from October until the end of January,” Mithra said, rubbing Jorj’s shoulder. He was clearly taking over to give his husband a reprieve from recounting his traumatic childhood- and Jorj was clearly upset, his Appalachian accent and syntax coming out with his obvious distress.

“They’d given up on reclaiming their foster, but they’d heard about the Woodhaven Dairy, as well as the burnt ruined school, and the unmarked graves in the First Cemetery. They sacrificed animals and attempted to summon their deity in an abandoned house near the marina- it’s now Big Daddy’s Grill. They disappeared after they were caught by police, and no arrest was made, no one was sure what happened to them.”

“I chased them off, is what happened,” Kylo said. “They did their ritual there because they came onto the Woodhaven property, into the woods, and attempted to connect with the demon there. I didn’t want my fortifications coming undone, so I chased them off- ate one of them… he tasted awful.” 

“I remember my father saying someone had been asking after him to my grandfather at that time…,” Hux said, remembering. “They asked about me, and my grandfather had chased them out of the funeral home, saying we had no ties to North Carolina or anyone there, and they’d ‘best get before they were got.’”

Hux lifted a brow at Kylo, who met his gaze unapologetically. 

“He meant you.”

“He meant me,” Kylo agreed. “Your family is mine, I wouldn’t have anyone else lay claim to you. In any case… I think it’s possible they found your surrogate mother.” 

“And done what with her?” Hux asked. He’d always thought Maratelle was his mother, and he’d loved her to death- but knowing the woman who’d carried him might have been killed by a cult of hillbillies was… upsetting, to say the least. 

“We have digressed almost past the point of no return- you didn’t tell us what you meant by bonded,” Maz cut in, seeing Hux’s distress- as well as Jorj’s distress at bringing up his past. “Please explain before we all forget.”

“I cut him with the tooth from the box… and then I slashed my palm with it, and…. I pressed the cuts together,” Hux said, with no intention of telling any of them that he’d also slept with Kylo. 

Maz, Mithra and Jorj all stared at him. 

“You blended your blood with his.”

It wasn’t a question. Hux nodded, and Kylo held up his hands in defeated exasperation, his face saying it all. Maz got up again, and gave Hux a backhanded swat to his forehead like she’d done with Kylo earlier. 

“You’re a goddamn fool, you know that?” she barked. “Do you even know what that’s going to do you, you dumb boy?”

“Kylo has already said as much, and I’m already starting to figure out I may not have acted in my own interests,” Hux groused, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rubbed at the spot where she’d thwacked him. Now he for sure wasn’t going to tell Maz he’d slept with Kylo. 

Maz pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t you sass me, Sebastian.”

“….Yes, Ma’am,” Hux replied weakly.

Maz sat back down in her chair heavily, staring at Hux with a scrutinising expression, as if seeing him for the first time and noticing things she didn’t like. Hux felt like a specimen under a microscope, and without thinking, leaned a little more heavily against Kylo, taking comfort from his lover’s presence. 

“You can’t take back what you’ve done, Sebastian,” Maz finally said, then turned a steely gaze on Kylo, who flinched. “And you’d better take responsibility for whatever comes of it. Even I don’t know what happens in a situation like this.”

She looked at Jorj questioningly, who shrugged almost helplessly. 

“I don’t rightly know myself. Never encountered something like him, or experienced anything like this while in the holler. The Threkelds never managed to breach the veil.”

“I saw it,” Hux said softly, pressing even closer to Kylo with a shudder. Kylo covered Hux’s hand with his, squeezing it gently. “The thing. With the heads. Other things, too, but the thing with the heads… it was close. Massive.”

Jorj’s eyes went wide, and he scooted closer to his husband, the blood draining from his face. 

“Hundred Head,” he murmured. “It’s trying to find a way into this world.”

“And I’ve been stopping it from doing so for centuries,” Kylo growled. “You humans get so offended when I kill the local drunk, the wife beater, the bigot, but their flesh, blood and bone, the evil that permeates their very marrow marks them as prime material for sealing the breach. No one misses them, and everyone benefits from their absence.”

“They have families, lives,” Jorj snapped. Kylo snarled. 

“They torment families and ruin lives- or try to. You think people disappear because they get too close to the Hux family. Not true. They get got because they threaten the Hux family, or start trying to tear the Hux family down. I need the Hux line to do my work. Only their blood has me tied, and if I don’t have one of their bloodline keeping me grounded, I will get sucked back into Hell, and there will be no one or nothing to guard that breach, let alone try to seal it!” Kylo snapped. “So save your self righteous posturing for a human that gives a shit, because I’m not human and I don’t give a shit.” 

“Kylo,” Hux said softly, stroking the scar on the back of his wrist. “Easy.” 

Maz watched Kylo’s face soften, saw his hand twist to curl fingers through Hux’s, and she sighed, long, loud and exasperated. 

“Sebastian Armitage Hux, are you sleeping with that bad dog?”

Hux and Kylo were silent, but Hux’s bright red face and Kylo’s smug smirk said far more than any confession ever could. Maz groaned. 

“You’re goin’ straight to hell, Sebastian, and I don’t mean because he’s a male. Daft boy, sleeping with a demon.” 

“He’s _my_ demon, and he’s protecting me from being swallowed by that very same Hell,” Hux said, his tone vehement. He liked Maz, loved her, but Kylo…

_He’s mine._

“We all have demons, Maz,” Mithra said softly. “Some of them are capable of being tamed… even loved.” 

“You’re right, as usual,” Maz groused. “Not every day you see a family curse turn into a spoiled puppy. Will take some getting used to.” 

“I am _not_ a spoiled puppy,” Kylo protested, and Hux reached up to rub him behind the ear. Kylo immediately let out a rumble, then sulked once he realised what Hux had just proved to counter his argument. 

“So now what do we do?” Jorj asked. 

Kylo cleared his throat.

“We didn’t finish.”

Kylo and Hux finished the story they’d digressed from originally, which included Hux being taken into Kylo’s lair, seeing the Hundred Head, watching Kylo add to the barrier. Kylo told them how when there hadn’t been a Hux on the property, he hadn’t had the means, the assistance, the power of a bargain, to maintain the barrier, and an agent of Pestilence had broken through. 

“It makes sense now. The bargain is giving you indirect permission to collect materials from evil men in order to bolster your post. In return, you prevent the ‘curse’ from claiming the land, when in reality, you’ve been protecting it all along,” Maz said quietly. 

Kylo nodded. 

“I need the permission, however underhanded the methods are or interpreted, to kill evil human beings- I need the permission to leave the immediate property. With every century of permission, my territory, my room to roam, grew.” 

“So why kill the Hux?” Jorj asked. “And when will you kill this one?”

“This one, as you call him, and as we’ve established,” Kylo snarled, “has Benson blood. As for the rest, they were evil in their own way. Some of the things they agreed to, things they asked me to do… they were evil, and became part of the barrier once they had an heir who could take over the land and their familial burden.”

He didn’t meet Hux’s eyes. Hux was mildly horrified. The bones, the tendrils of flesh that he had stepped over, stepped on, seen making up Kylo’s nest… they were his family. 

“I can’t kill him. And now, since he won’t die, I wouldn’t need to, anyway. We can take care of the breach together… forever.” 

All eyes fell on Hux as he got up silently and left the room, left the house, and bolted for the car. He fumbled the fob, dropped it, fell to his knees as he scrabbled in the grass for it. Nausea and bile rose in his throat, but it didn’t burn nearly as hot, as acidic as the feeling of betrayal and horror in his chest, knowing what he knew now. He would have ended up a mess of tendrils of biological reinforcement, his flesh and bone twisted into horrific ropes making an abominable web of viscera, the drapings of Kylo’s nest. Kylo would have woven him into threads between his fangs and claws and then rested on him in the depths of shadow between this world and hell. Demons- Hundred Head- would have battered against his twisted, violated flesh until the end of time, or until Kylo had woven enough human lives into a wall that would finally hold. 

He’d walked over his grandfather. He’d touched the rope-like remains of his _father_.

He managed to unlock the car as Kylo emerged into the sunlight. Kylo winced, and immediately turned into the Shuck, bounding across the path towards the car. Hux slid in, locked the doors and started the Rolls. Kylo came skidding to a halt just in time to avoid being run over as Hux floored the accelerator and peeled out of the driveway, spraying gravel and dust over Kylo. Kylo whined in his throat, his tail curled tightly between his hind legs, his head bowed, ears flattened against his skull. 

“You didn’t tell him,” said Maz’s gentle voice, her warm hand falling on his back at the withers. It was a comforting gesture, but it brought Kylo no comfort as he watched the Rolls drive away, disappearing around a corner. 

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Kylo whimpered, sliding on the grass to lie on his belly, resting his long muzzle on his forepaws. 

“You hurt him by not telling him, by not warning him what you’d brought him in contact with, by making him realise that could have been his fate in the worst possible way. You hurt him by not telling him that you helped him walk over his father’s remains,” Maz said. 

Her tone was not unkind, but it was far from soothing. It was a gentle scolding of a parent telling their child what they did wrong so they’d know not to do it again. 

“How do I make this better? How do I fix it?” Kylo asked, a low whine building in his throat. 

“Go home and apologise,” Maz said. “And find a way to let him move past the horror of his reality.”

Kylo got to his feet and padded off in the direction the Rolls had gone. He could beat Hux home if he wanted to, but he had a lot to think about on the way there. He took the long, slow route home, trying to think of how to apologise to his mate. 

If he still had one when he got home, in any case. 

* * *

Hux sat on the roof with a cigarette and a glass of brandy. The sun was setting, and his neatly wound internal clock pinged his mind that it was past dinner time, but his stomach was having none of it. The burn of nicotine and alcohol was all he needed right then. He certainly didn’t need Kylo, either, but Kylo came, anyway, trotting down the driveway. He stopped in front of the house and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly and throat up to the roof where Hux sat. Hux glowered at him, his expression pure hurt and venom. 

“Leave me alone,” he spat, and threw the empty tumbler at Kylo. It missed, hitting the hard ground and shattering into glittering shards over the gravel drive. Kylo whined. 

“Sebastian, I-”

“Leave me alone, you _monster_ ,” Hux shot at him, his voice breaking. “How could you hide _that_ from me? What you did, what that was, what could have happened to me, what happened to-”

He choked on a sob, and it tore Kylo’s chest in two to hear the sound. He’d heard humans cry so often, heard wolves mourn their dead, but this? This was physical pain, hearing his human, his mate, cry like this. 

And it was his doing that caused it. 

“Sebastian-”

“Leave me alone!” Hux screamed. “Just leave me alone! You _lied_ to me! You hid the truth from me, you thought I was weak and you lied to me, don’t even say you’re sorry when you can’t treat me with respect, when you can’t tell me the truth! Just go!”

Kylo whined, low and soft, and got to his feet, slinking into the slaughterhouse, disappearing into the depths. Hux climbed back into his bedroom, shut and locked the window, then flung himself into the comfort of his bed- only it didn’t comfort him anymore. The sheets, the pillows, the blankets, they all smelled like the beautiful creature that had betrayed his trust, and hidden the most important, but awful truths from him. The couch smelled like him, too, and Hux couldn’t bear to lie on it, either. He paced the house, looking for someplace to curl up, to cry, to sleep, that the hellhound hadn’t covered in his scent. All the while, he screamed into the silence of the house that felt emptier than it should have without Kylo there. 

“Liar! Murderer! **_Desecrator_**!” he screamed, banging the walls of every room he entered in search of a place to cry out his pain and frustration that didn’t smell like the creature he was so conflicted over. 

He ended up in the bathtub again, curled up in a nest of towels fresh from the dryer. He nuzzled into the warm terrycloth that smelled of lavender and electrical heat, not bothering to shed his clothes. He wrapped his arms around himself, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sobbed into the echoing quiet of the bathroom. 

Outside, from the depths of the slaughterhouse, howls of sorrow and regret rang through the night that rose and fell in time with Hux’s sobs. 

* * *

Hux couldn’t sleep. The bathtub was uncomfortable, but the couch, the bed, the carpet, all smelled of Kylo. How, in just a few months, had the demon wormed his way into his heart like this? How had he come to need him near after only a few nights of having him in his bed? He could smell Kylo’s scent wafting into the bathroom from the living room off the couch, from upstairs off his bedding. It made him ache, made his limbs stir and itch, wanting to carry his body from the cold hard tub, back to the soft nest of his bed, to burrow into the warm safety of that scent that could only be described as home.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it- his mind and heart still stung with betrayal from being treated like a child, for not being told everything. For not being warned that he’d be desecrating his family’s remains- that his family’s remains were threads of a webbing made to seal a breach to Hell, that he would have joined them! What else had Kylo not told him?

He got up and went outside. His questions needed to be answered. 

Kylo was sitting on the crumbling steps outside the slaughterhouse, waiting for him, his true form massive against the old building. Hux leaned against the car, staring Kylo down as he lit a cigarette and shoved the lighter in his pants pocket. The night air was cold, and the metal of the Rolls was colder, soothing against joints made stiff by trying to sleep in the tub. Silence rang between them, only broken by the creaking of the oak branches in the autumn wind. 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo rumbled. He didn’t meet Hux’s gaze. Hux let out a plume of smoke from his nose into the chilly air. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I care about you,” the hellhound said softly, his ears wilting. “I don’t know when I started to care about you, or how I came to care for you so quickly, but I didn’t want you to think the worst of me by knowing.”

“Did you think it wouldn’t come up?” Hux asked archly before taking another drag. The heat in his lungs felt good, kept him focused on his anger- it was surprisingly hard to do, as he could feel Kylo’s remorse seeping into his mind. 

“I hoped it wouldn’t,” Kylo admitted, getting to his feet and taking a step closer. “I hoped that… when it did, you’d be able to handle it.”

“I’m not like you, Kylo,” Hux retorted. “I’m human. I’m not a demon, a monster, a hellhound, a spirit. I’m human.”

“Are you?” Kylo snorted. Another step. “You have my blood in your veins now, you won’t be human forever, maybe not even for long. Did you consider that?”

“I don’t like to consider it,” Hux admitted, trying to swallow the fear that had his throat going tight and dry as Kylo mentioned his precarious situation with his humanity. “But even if that changes, at one point, I will have been human. At one point, I had humanity, and I don’t think that will ever change. You… you never had humanity, and I don’t think that will ever change, either.” 

“No, but humanity isn’t everything. Humans have done far worse to each other over the millennia than I have done to any the humans I encountered in my whole lifetime,” Kylo countered. Closer still, another step, then two. “I am not better than humanity, but I am not worse, either.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” Hux said, watching Kylo come closer with every exchange of words between them. He could almost touch Kylo’s muzzle, and his scent was in his nose, a drug coming back into his system and soothing his ache for a fix. “I’m not asking you to be a saint, Kylo, I’m asking you to understand I have had humanity, and I am asking you to respect my humanity, even if it wanes. I can’t be with you if you can’t respect that. I can’t give myself to a wild, rampaging monster.”

Kylo snapped his jaws angrily, his teeth clicking loudly in the night air. To his credit, Hux didn’t even flinch as he flicked the stub of his spent cigarette away.

“I will never _not_ be a monster,” Kylo growled. “I can’t- I won’t- become human and remain that way as your tame, moral abiding _pet_. You can’t have it just one way. You can’t demand my trust, then refuse to trust me in return. All of me, or none of me, so you need to -”

Hux seized the hellhound’s lower jaw, fingers sliding so easily between the sharp teeth, as if they belonged there. Kylo’s angry rant cut off as the human’s knuckles brushed against his tongue, and the human pulled him down by the jaw. His ears went up, his blood-red eyes flaring to points of surprise in his skull as Hux pressed his mouth against the fangs, and kissed him right on the snout of his nightmarish skull.

“And you need to learn to shut up once in a while. Not all of us have eternity to ramble, you selfish monster,” he said quietly against the sharp fangs, kissing each one, despite knowing just what those teeth had done the night before.

All the while, his fingers ran over the sharp teeth of Kylo’s lower jaw, and Kylo trembled at how close he was, his scent right there in his turbinates, the taste of him right at the tip of his tongue, he was nearly, quite literally, in his jaws, and it was all Kylo could do to resist snapping him up into his maw- so he settled for flicking Hux’s cheek, his mouth, with the tip of his tongue, in order to still it while Hux pulled back and locked grey-green eyes with blood-red.

“I never wanted you to stop being a monster. I would never try to change that, Kylo- I know better,” he continued. “I just want you to be **_my_ **monster.”

Kylo exhaled carefully, waiting. Listening. 

“I don’t want to tame you. I know I couldn’t tame you, even if I did want to. But I don’t. You’re feral and intelligent and beautiful and I don’t want to change that.” 

His grey green eyes gazed into Kylo’s face, his brow furrowed.

“You called me your mate. If you want me as your mate, if you want to keep me, you have to be honest. Being honest isn't being tamed. You have to be straightforward with me, or you could be putting me in danger. You say you care for me, want to learn to love me?”

Kylo nodded silently. Hux’s hands on his muzzle, his fingers touching his teeth, his tongue, they felt so good, so soothing. 

“Then treat me as your equal. Treat me as your mate, so I can learn to love you in return. If we’re going to be bonded for all of time, we need to be honest so we can trust each other, and maybe, learn to love each other.”

“You’d want to?” Kylo asked softly, not daring to believe his human was giving him a second chance. 

“I want to give us the chance at it, to get closer to you. I can’t do that if we aren’t honest with each other.”

Hux pressed his forehead to the smooth side of Kylo’s snout. The bone was so smooth, so comforting against his skin.

“And I’m being honest with you now, Kylo,” he murmured. “I can’t sleep without you beside me, and it physically hurts me to be away from you. But it hurt me just as badly, knowing you weren’t honest with me.”

He pulled away.

“Promise me you’ll be honest?”

Kylo shifted, and in moments, wrapped human arms around Hux, pressing his face against the underside of Hux’s jaw with a soft sound. Hux held him close and inhaled his scent, taking comfort in it as it wrapped around him like a second lover, sunk into his sinuses and burrowed into his lungs, curled into his marrow and made a home in his heart. 

“I promise, Sebastian. I will tell you everything. I promise.” 

Hux pulled back from Kylo to press a kiss to his soft full mouth. 

“Thank you, Kylo. Take me to bed?”

Kylo smiled, a tender, crooked smile, and scooped Hux into his arms, carrying him inside to their bedroom. Their bed. Inside, he stripped Hux down, kissing over every scar, every mole and freckle, whispering ‘Sorry,’ over and over in hushed, apologetic, almost reverent tones before pulling him into bed. 

Hux silently climbed astride him, and in the dark, he leaned over Kylo as he took him inside himself, kissing the hellhound-turned-man over and over. Kylo purred and whispered Hux’s name between each quiet, breathy moan the both of them made, his hands running over the planes of Hux’s body, watching his form undulate on top of him, beautiful and exquisite. 

Kylo sighed, curled his toes and churred as Hux made love to him in the warm safe dark of their room, relishing the beautiful arch of his back, the flash of his throat as he tossed his head back, the curve of his thighs that clamped tightly about his hips. His long fingers clutched at his human’s hips, helping Hux’s rocking movements as they ground together, the two of them one, if only for a few precious moments, as Kylo couldn’t tell where he ended and where Hux began, only that he felt so good inside him, so perfect, as if they were made for each other. 

Hux never liked looking at his lovers in the face as he fucked them, but this was different. He couldn’t take his eyes off Kylo’s beautiful expression as he made love to him. The soft glitter of his expressive eyes, the quiver of his full plush lips as Hux hunched his shoulders to bend down for breathless kisses. The way his long lashes fluttered with pleasure, the way his brows furrowed in pure adoration of the man making love to him. 

For the first time in his life, as he gazed into the adoring face of the monster he’d claimed as his own, Hux felt his heart break in a way that was purely beautiful, exquisite, delicious and _freeing_. 

He was loved, adored, wanted, _desired_ for all he was, and not an ideal that might be. He was cherished for being other, for being different in ways others saw as flaws- but this beautiful creature saw them as merits, as facets of perfection. 

He was loved, he was _so loved_ , and he could tell that by looking into Kylo’s eyes, and the intensity of that love, the knowledge of that love overwhelmed him. 

His body shook with release, and his heart cracked with relief. He slumped on top of his lover, crying softly into his chest as strong arms wrapped around him, Kylo’s purrs vibrating soothingly through his body. 

“It’s okay,” Kylo whispered. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Hux replied, his voice thick with emotion as Kylo rolled them over, still tied together, a tangle of limbs in the safe dark. 

“I love you,” Kylo rumbled against Hux’s throat, pressing his trembling lips to the rapidly beating pulse under his skin. Hux cling to him like a burr, fingertips digging into rippling muscle, and he sobbed softly. 

“I love you,” he managed. 

How strange, that he could go from being terrified of Kylo, to feeling betrayed, and then to loving him in so short a time. His logical self told him it was illogical, that this didn’t happen, and he’d wake up tomorrow and realise how foolish he’d been. 

But he felt the love curling, unfurling, rushing through Kylo’s veins, and through the blood they shared- Hux felt the same in his own body. They couldn’t feel what the other didn’t. He knew that now, knew their bond was something irrevocable. He knew this wasn’t something fleeting, something temporary. It was hard to argue with the sheer force of affection and adoration that crashed upon him like so many strong waves after waves of storming tides that came from the turbulent sea of Kylo’s heart- even if his heart didn't beat. 

“I love you,” they whispered to each other in the dark over and over again as they pressed close, their fingers memorising every curve, every plane, every tiny imperfection that was perfection in their eyes. 

Hux fell asleep in Kylo’s arms, exhausted, but complete, with “I love you,” fading on his lips as he succumbed to blissful dreams and the best sleep of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit shorter than the other chapters, but it got emotional!


End file.
